Perfection In Three Easy Steps
by SouvenirsFamiliers
Summary: Charles, a student at Oxford, uses the university's Cerebro prototype on a dare. He expects to find Raven a boyfriend. Instead, he finds Erik. Cherik. Includes ducklings.
1. Chapter 1: Today

_Author's note: _Alternate titles include "Are You My Mother?", "Cheeper By the Dozen", and "Warm, Fuzzy Ducklings." The first two have since been re-appropriated as chapter titles. This chapter is also posted on Tumblr.

The Universe, somewhat Alternate: Near future. Professor X and Magneto never existed, but the events from X-Men still went down. Mutant-human relations are now more of a social and political issue than a war-based one.

* * *

_Chapter 1: Today_

Sometimes, there is a day that changes someone's life irrevocably. Very rarely, however, there is a day that changes many people's lives without any of them even realizing it. Today is one of those days.

"Really, Raven, I don't understand it. He's clearly intelligent, so why can't he see that pointing out why mutants are always better than humans isn't the way to resolve our differences?"

Raven sighed and shoved her hands deeper into her pockets as they walked across the park. One thing that was very nice about attending the University of Oxford was all the parks nearby. However, despite the sun shining brightly, the spring air still had a bite to it that made her nose turn pink. "Charles, I really don't know."

Charles chewed on his lower lip absently. They came to the edge of the pond and stopped. Ducks were swimming on its surface, and a few approached Charles and Raven curiously. Charles sighed. "I just wish he would use the media attention for something that would really make a difference in mutant-human relations. If he keeps preaching how nothing has changed and nothing ever will, I'm worried there is going to be serious resistance and political repercussions. We don't need to repeat history."

Raven looked down at a curious duck that had waddled up on land and was looking at her expectantly. "Can't I bring some bread some time?"

Charles blinked and refocused momentarily on reality. "No, Raven, you know it's not good to feed them. We've disrupted their lives enough as it is. It's bad for them to be dependent on us."

Raven looked at him pleadingly. "But they look so disappointed."

Charles narrowed his eyes. "Really, Raven, you're in university. Those eyes aren't going to work on me anymore."

Raven raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What about my birthday present last year?"

"Oh, well. It was your birthday."

Raven grinned and bumped against him. "Riiight."

There was a moment of silence. A few ducks quacked at them. "I'm sorry, I've been talking about Lehnsherr for the past hour, haven't I?"

"Yeah. It's fine. I know how important this stuff is to you."

Charles looked at her sharply. "It should be important to you too, Raven. If Lehnsherr succeeds in convincing the politicians that all mutants are arrogant and reactionary, it's going to be the 70s all over again."

"Charles, my rights are just as important to me as the next person. I just don't see why this Lehnsherr guy is the one who bothers you so much. You've never even met the guy."

Charles looked at his feet. "I suppose he just has so much influence over the debate. He may be an authority on human-mutant history, but a book or two isn't a replacement for a logical evaluation of his ideas. Everyone is always fawning over him. I feel like he gets interviewed at least once a week, and he has the freedom to tour the country giving talks. Until I get my PhD and graduate from here, I don't have a chance at that kind of power, and it's possible I never will."

Raven smiled. "You've got your blog."

Charles looked up and smiled back at her. "Yes, my blog, which is seen primarily by my own classmates. It hardly has an influence on most current voters or legislation."

"Hey, you're always saying that young people are the politicians of tomorrow."

"Yes. I just wish they were the politicians of _today._"

They resumed their walk, a lazy circumnavigation of the pond. They passed under some trees and Raven suddenly stopped. "What is it?" Charles asked, and then he saw where she was looking.

Raven knelt down at peered at the nest. It was settled between the reeds at the edge of the pond and the roots of a tree. It would have been hidden to most ground predators, but from a human's eye level it was mostly visible. A clutch of eight white eggs was neatly placed in the center of the nest.

Charles knelt next to her. "Mallards," he said quietly. "Don't touch them or the mother might abandon them."

"I know." Raven looked out at the pond. There were no ducks nearby. She looked at Charles with a frown. "How far away would the mother go?"

"Well," Charles said slowly, "Male Mallards leave the females after mating, so she does have to hunt for herself."

"What if she got killed?" Raven asked quietly.

"Or abandoned the nest. They do that, sometimes, if another bird lays an egg in the clutch or–" Raven gave him a look. Charles winced. "Sorry, rambling, I know. If you're worried . . ." Raven's big eyes looked at him and Charles felt like a big brother again, telling six-year-old Raven that they couldn't take home every animal they found. "We can wait here. She wouldn't be gone for more than an hour, I think."

Raven smiled. "And we should probably be quiet, right?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "Yes, I won't bore you with politics, I promise."

An hour and a half later, it was clear even from their distant vantage point that no duck had appeared. Charles chewed his lip while he thought. "Alright," he said finally. "It's getting dark. We have a couple of options. I think I have space in the lab to set up an incubator, and I know we have a heat lamp, so I'll just need to make sure no curious students touch them." Charles closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. "Or we could try and find someplace to take them."

"Guess it's settled," Raven said happily, and stood up. "Take off your vest. We need something to carry them in. Hurry up, remember that there's that party tonight."

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I." Charles pulled his sweater vest over his head and spread it out carefully next to the nest. "I thought the party doesn't start until eight. We have nearly three hours."

"Yeah, and we've got to eat dinner, and I've got to get dressed, blah blah," said Raven. "I hear Logan's supplying the booze. It's going to be _wild._"

* * *

Erik Lehnsherr, best known for his work concerning mutant-human relations and their development through history, was on the phone.

"I don't see why I can't just stay in London."

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "With all due respect, Mr. Lehnsherr sir, if you get to London a week early, (a) you're probably going to be living on the street because we can't pay for that, and (b) some nosy reporter is sure to find you and eat you alive. We really don't need that to happen again."

Erik ground his teeth impatiently. "I appreciate your concern, Janos, but I can't exactly live at the train station either."

There was a short silence. "Oh. You're already there."

"Yes. I am."

"I see."

"And why couldn't you have told me that the conference had been moved _three hours ago?" _

"I didn't _know,_" Erik's personal assistant replied irritably. "They only just called. Look, get yourself a ticket to – what would you prefer? Relative obscurity or absolute obscurity?"

"Someplace with an inn and a decent pub," Erik ground out.

"Maidenhead it is, then."

"Fine," Erik snapped.

"It'll give you some time to work on that new book you're writing."

"_Goodbye, _Janos," Erik said, and hung up. This was going to be a long week.

* * *

_"I love everyone at this party!"_ Charles roared. Everyone around him screamed loud enough to be heard over the music. Raven grabbed his hand, giggling, and pulled him over to a chair.

"You look like you need to sit down," she told him with a grin. Some of her drink splashed on her dress and she didn't notice.

"Nonsense," Charles told her, but sat down anyway.

Sean bobbed up out of the crowd. "Charles! Do you have time to go over the electrophoresis lab with me tomorrow?"

"Sweetheart, Charles is out of commission," Raven told him, patting Charles's shoulder. "He is very drunk and not capable of doing science, or talking about it."

"Raven, don't be _silly,_" Charles told her. He raised his eyebrows at Sean. "Aren't you a little young for this party?"

Sean made a face. "No, I'm eighteen."

"Well, Sean, let me tell you something," Charles said, and beckoned him closer. Sean leaned in obligingly. "That girl over by the window has brown eyes with a green central heterochromia – or _heterochromia iridum _in latin – a combination which is sometimes mistakenly called hazel. It is caused by–"

"Genetics," Sean finished with an eye-roll.

"And the environment," Charles added emphatically.

"Charles, that line does not work on _everyone,_" Raven said.

"Mention the Latin," Charles told Sean. "That's very seductive. And Raven, your love-life would be significantly improved if you would follow my lead."

_"Your _lead?" Raven did not look impressed. "Charles, dearest, I am not looking for one-night stands. You aren't capable of having anything else."

Charles frowned. "But that's what I _want." _

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"I'm going to leave now," said Sean, and disappeared back into the crowd.

"I know you're still not over Hank–"

"I am _completely_ over Hank," Raven said too loudly.

"–But that's no reason to act like this. I have strategies for wooing people into long-term relationships too, you know."

Raven sat down beside him with a sigh. "I know, I've tried them."

Charles looked at her. "What?"

Raven slumped in her seat. "I guess I never told you this, but when we were little . . . I totally look up to you, you know . . ."

Her eyes filled with tears and Charles realized that they were both a little drunker than they had realized. He patted her arm awkwardly. "I know."

"All of my relationships have been based on yours," Raven said, and her voice sounded choked now. She hiccuped out a sob. "I try so hard, but they always fall _apart_." She broke down over her drink and her skin turned rather blue.

"There there," Charles said, and pulled her into a clumsy hug. "I know I'm not the best role model."

"But you _are,_" she sobbed. "It's _me." _

"Nope," Charles told her. "And you know what, I'm going to prove it to you."

"What?" Raven looked up at him, and Charles felt like a kitten had just sunk its cute little claws into his heart. She sniffed and wiped her face with her hand. "How are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to avoid the very strong temptation to hit on that woman over there."

Raven collapsed against him in giggles. "You're the worse."

"I am."

"Hey, Professor X," said someone, and Charles and Raven looked up. Alex, Armando (or Darwin, as everyone had taken to calling him after a certain biology seminar), and Hank were standing in front of them. Alex and Darwin looked ecstatic. Hank looked uncomfortable but also mildly drunk. To help out, Charles handed him his beer.

"Hello, all," said Charles.

"Hey guys," Raven said cheerfully next to him, pointedly ignoring Hank. "What's up?"

Alex's grin widened. "I have a dare for you, Professor X."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"I dare you to break into the lab and use the prototype."

Raven frowned in confusion. "But the lab isn't – oh." Her eyes widened and she stared at Charles. "You wouldn't," she breathed. "It's completely off-limit to students."

"Except for a certain someone we're not talking about right now," Charles pointed out. "And by that I mean Hank." Okay, maybe that hadn't been very diplomatic, but diplomacy wasn't at the top of his list of priorities right now. He looked back at Alex. "What do I get if I do it?"

"I will let you help me on my physics homework for the next week."

Charles's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"That's a deal, not a dare," Hank muttered, but everyone ignored him.

"Really. Also, if you don't do it we get to tell the whole school that you chickened out."

"I accept," Charles said, and put out an unsteady hand. He and Alex shook hands while Raven whooped in excitement.

"This is like breaking the _law," _Raven whispered (or rather, said clearly) into Charles's ear as they trooped across the lawn towards the academic buildings. While Alex and Darwin talked about some event at the party that Charles had missed out on, he heard her listing off all the college and county statutes they were about to break. Charles was very proud of his sister for wanting to be a lawyer, but sometimes it drove him crazy. It briefly occurred to him that she might feel similarly about his own area of study.

The Cerebro prototype itself had gotten the university quite a bit of legal attention. Director Frost headed the project herself. She claimed that when it was completed, Cerebro would allow any mutant telepath to conduct broad surveys of large populations, find missing persons, and any other benevolent uses public institutions could come up with. It was both a technological marvel and a serious breach of privacy. With the new laws requiring both freedom and regulation regarding mutant's powers, the concept of Cerebro was caught in the middle of a political battle. Oxford had gone ahead and built a prototype anyway, but they weren't allowed to use it, and hadn't – theoretically. Charles had been itching to get his hands on it, of course, if just for the engineering aspect of the thing, but so far he had resisted. As a student, he had had absolutely zero justification for it.

Until now.

They walked quickly through the dark hallways of the building it was housed in. Charles told them all to be very quiet, which resulted in everyone, Charles included, dissolving into giggles. They stopped in front of a steel door that was very clearly locked. Hank, after much prodding, punched in the password to the keypad and opened the door.

The room was much larger than Charles had expected. The walls were covered with equipment, control panels, and even an observation area to protect the scientists in case the thing started spitting sparks. Everything was neatly put away, and it wasn't hard to figure out where Cerebro was. It was right in the center of the room. Everyone except Hank stared for a moment, and then wandered over to inspect the controls.

"I hope you really know how to work this thing, Hank," Darwin said dubiously, looking at some dials.

"Hmm," agreed Charles, and went over to get a closer look at Cerebro. There was a place for him to stand and a half-wall in front of it, though Charles wasn't sure why. The main apparatus was clearly the helmet-like thing suspended from the ceiling. There were a lot of wires. Charles's mind tried to drudge up what he knew about the machine. It was for telepaths only (check) and was supposed to extend their reach many times beyond what it normally was. Charles had seen the official proposal and it looked plausible on paper. It was also very possible it didn't work.

Suddenly, Charles wasn't quite so sure about this anymore.

"I assume that's the on button," said Raven, and Charles joined her and the others at the control panel. There was a large green button that said "ON."

"Yeah, I agree." Charles peered at the knobs. Most of them were unlabeled. "Could you give us some help over here, Hank?"

Hank wandered over and looked dismally over his shoulder. "Yeah. Let me get it set up." Everyone moved back, and Charles went back over to Cerebro. There were clear marks on the floor for his feet, so he stood on them. He wasn't really sure how to put on the helmet-like thing, but Hank came over a moment later and secured it. Raven stood just in front of Charles and grinned. "Find me a boyfriend, will you, Charles?" Beside him, Hank tensed and moved away.

"If there is a man for you in England, I will find him," Charles said. Come to think of it, he had no idea what Cerebro's reach was, but that was probably an exaggeration. "Probably," he amended, and Raven giggled.

"Everyone stand over here, just in case," Hank called from near the controls. Raven went, though Charles could still see her in the corner of his eye. "You might want to brace yourself," Hank told Charles. Charles took a deep breath and put his hands on the small wall. "Ready?"

"Ready," Charles supplied, and Hank turned it on.

It was as though someone had taken away the dulling effect of the alcohol, every shield he had put up, fifty more shields he had never known he had, and ripped them all away. He probably yelled, and he might have heard Raven shouting something, but Cerebro had already grabbed hold of his mind and yanked him along for the ride.

It was amazing. His mind raced outward in a full circle, passing quickly through every mind he came across. It moved so quickly he was already a town away by the time he thought to slow it down, and several more before he managed to do so. Cerebro pushed against his mind, wanting him to move faster and in all directions, but he dug his mental heels in, focused on the most populated area he could sense, and took a look around.

He was in Maidenhead, he decided. That was what it felt like when he took in all the minds collectively. Cerebro was dragging on him, though, so he let it pull him through each of their minds individually. He got just bits and pieces of their minds – schoolteacher, thoughtful, worried, crying, kind. Most of the town was sleeping, so Charles supposed it was a bit later than he had thought.

He was about to let Cerebro pull him farther away, out towards London – what would London be like, he wondered – when he felt something catch his interest. He slowed down again and looked more closely. There was a mind somewhere, strangely awake and focused, like a little flame burning against the backdrop of the sleepy town and the empty countryside. It wasn't just that the man was awake – because he was a man, Charles could tell as he circled closer, or at least that was how he identified himself – but there was something intense about him. This was a man who cared passionately about things, and he was thinking about something like that right now. His mind was sharp and he was clearly fiercely intelligent, but there was something sad, some anger that floated just below the surface . . . Cerebro didn't allow Charles any specifics, only impressions, but he knew he was right. Charles was beginning to feel tired, but he wanted to stay with the man and his thoughts, and he hung on for a few more moments before he finally let himself be tugged onwards. Cerebro reached the edges of London but Charles didn't want to go any farther, so he locked down his shields enough to say, "Hank, turn it off."

He was suddenly back in his own, alcohol-blurred mind, but the pleasant buzz was gone.

"Charles, are you okay?" Raven's concerned eyes appeared in front of his own. She looked very worried. "Did it hurt you?"

"I'm fine," he said distantly, because he was. Tired, but fine. Hank began to undo the straps and everyone crowded around. "Raven," he said slowly, and she stopped trying to hug him. He licked his lips, which had gone dry, and met her eyes. "I didn't find your perfect man," he said, "but I think I found mine."


	2. Chapter 2: Are You My Mother?

_Author's note: _Happy Tuesgay! :D

* * *

_Chapter 2: Are You My Mother?_

The next afternoon (because Sunday mornings were generally non-existent in Charles's experience), after Charles had showered and eaten something resembling breakfast, Raven found him.

"Well?" she said, blocking the doorway out of his flat.

"Well what?" asked Charles, looking up innocently from the newspaper he had been reading at his kitchen table. Really, he should have seen this coming. Raven had barraged Charles with questions the night before, but all Charles could really say about the man he had come across in Cerebro was that he was "smart, passionate . . . and there was something about him." Raven had given him a skeptical look, and Charles had given up trying to explain. He had hoped that she would let it alone for a day at least, but, well, it was Raven.

"If you're not going to be completely honest with me about your Mysterious Stranger, at least promise me you're going to look for him."

"I don't think that would be fair to anyone involved," Charles replied.

"Yeah? How so?"

"I would never have found him if I hadn't been . . ." Charles waved his hand vaguely.

"Doing something illegal," Raven supplied, and Charles looked at her sharply.

"Yes. I invaded his privacy, and it would be entirely unfair for me to try to meet him when I'm not supposed to know he exists."

"But you _do_ know he exists."

"Well, yes." Charles carefully folded the newspaper in half and avoided her eyes. "And really, Raven, you shouldn't take it so seriously. I was very drunk, smashed actually, and I really only got a very general impression of who he is. For all I know, he's a serial killer planning his next move–"

"But you know he's not, that's the whole point!"

"I can't detect schizophrenia, _really_ Raven–"

Raven sighed and sat down across from him. "You have to at least want to know what he looks like. Don't procrastinate on this. What if he leaves town?"

"It seemed like he was going to be there for a while," Charles argued weakly.

"Charles," Raven said. She put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. "I love you. I want you to be happy. This guy is clearly one in a million, and you are the kind of person who is only going to be happy with one in a million. You deserve him, _so go out and get him. _Today."

"But I've got to check on the eggs, and I promised Sean I'd help him with that lab–"

"Then check on the eggs and tell Sean you'll be back tonight," Raven responded promptly. "I'm picking you up in an hour."

So Charles washed his dishes, grumbled under his breath, and went to check on the duck eggs. They were all just how had left them, nestled together and perfectly smooth with no signs of cracks. He had no idea how close they were to hatching, but he checked each egg individually just in case. Charles went back to his flat and puttered about for the next half hour. He should bring an umbrella, of course. A hat, to disguise his face. Actually, the umbrella could be used for that too.

"You're not _stalking _the man," Charles muttered to himself, but tucked the hat under his arm anyway. "He's never even met you." Charles took a deep breath. "Probably."

"Which way?" Raven asked when Charles got in the car.

"Maidenhead. He was on the outskirts of town."

"Right." Raven pulled onto the road, and thus began one of the most awkward car rides they had ever taken together. Raven tried twice to start up casual conversation, but Charles only responded with "Mm," and they spent the rest of it in silence. Charles rested his chin on his hand while he stared broodingly out the window. He only sat up straight when they came to the outskirts of Maidenhead. Raven slowed the car. "Should I just keep going?"

"Yes, slowly. I'll tell you if I sense anything."

They cruised through the town, which was not very busy on a Sunday afternoon. "What if he's gone out?" Raven asked when the town center was in sight.

"I know," Charles said. He had his eyes closed and two fingers pressed to his temple. There was something, _maybe _something, on the edge of his senses, but he couldn't quite reach it . . . "Try to go towards the right edge of town, will you?"

"The right? You mean, right rather than left? How right?"

Charles opened his eyes. They were coming up on an intersection and Raven was clearly uncertain about whether she was turning or not. "Just go straight for a bit and take the next right turn."

The next right turn took them through a residential neighborhood. "Because this doesn't look sketchy at all," Raven muttered. She sped up a little.

Charles clenched his eyes shut in concentration. "No, no, wait! I think he's close."

Raven slowed the car to a crawl. "Close?"

"Look, just – let me drive."

"I'm not letting you drive my car!"

_"Raven." _

Raven rolled her eyes and pulled over. "Fine. You had better not be trying to get out of this."

"Trust me, at this point I'm not," Charles muttered to himself. He _knew _the man was here somewhere, and despite himself, excitement was buzzing under his skin. He could do this, he knew he could. He switched seats with Raven and gently eased the car up to a gentle cruise. He kept his mind as open as he could under the circumstances and pushed his range as far as he could without crashing the car. He put two fingers to his temple despite Raven's noise of disapproval. There was something . . .

Charles suddenly found him. The man was awake and walking. Charles couldn't see into his thoughts like he had been able to with Cerebro without making his presence felt, and he didn't want to try. Even so, his identity was unmistakeable. Charles pulled the car over to the curb far faster than was necessary and got out.

"Charles?" Raven asked.

_Shh, _Charles told her, too distracted to notice that he hadn't said it out loud. Raven looked at him wide-eyed, and quietly followed along behind him.

Charles knew he probably looked a bit strange walking along with his eyes mostly closed and his fingers pressed to his temple, but the man was still far enough away that Charles needed to concentrate. The man was moving, and fast. Charles broke into a jog. He turned a corner and found himself back on the main street. Charles paused and his eyes darted among the pedestrians. There was a man up ahead of him in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. He opened a door and went inside.

Charles took his fingers away from his temple and let Raven catch up. "He went into the laundromat," Charles told her quietly.

"Well? Are you going to get a look at him?"

Charles met her eyes for the first time since they had gotten in the car. He grinned. "Of course."

They decided that the best course of action would be for Raven to pretend to tie her shoe while Charles happened to glance inside the laundromat. It worked well in the sense that the man didn't see them. This was because his back was turned to them.

"I've already untied and retied my shoe twice," Raven hissed at him. "And these boots don't even have laces."

Charles drummed his fingers impatiently at his side. He was just considering tugging at the man's mind to make him turn around when the man turned enough for Charles to see him in profile. Charles's fingers stilled. "Oh my God."

"What?" Raven stood up and peered through the window.

"It's Erik Lehnsherr." Charles turned to Raven, wide-eyed, as Raven began to drag him away before they were noticed. "My dream man is Erik Lehnsherr."

* * *

Charles was distracted on the drive back to Oxford. "How can it possibly be Lehnsherr?" he asked for the third time. "_How?_ The man is arrogant, self-obsessed, and thinks the solution to all the world's problems is some combination of hate mail and biting remarks."

"Are you sure you really found him attractive?" Raven asked. "You were pretty drunk, and you still haven't spoken to him in person."

Charles gave her a look. "What happened to the Raven I met this morning?"

Raven rolled her eyes. "Come on, Charles. What did you like about him?"

Charles was silent for a moment. "There was just something so _interesting _about him," Charles finally said. He gazed out the window. "Most people's minds aren't like that. I just . . . want to know more about him." Charles sighed. "I think I can help him."

"Help him with what? Seeing the correct way to deal with mutant-human relations?" Raven glanced at Charles skeptically.

"Well, yes, I suppose, but there's something . . ." He closed his eyes and tried to remember. "There's a reason why he is this way, some sort of pain. I think . . . I can fix him."

"No."

Charles's eyes snapped open. "What?"

Raven glared briefly at him. "Don't try to fix people. That's not how the world works. You can't _fix _things. That's the kind of attitude humans have about us. Don't extend your need to teach people and take care of them roll over into this. Don't think I haven't seen you training all of the kids who ask you for help to be polite and think about things the way you do. You're subtle about it, but you're my brother, and I know it when I see it."

Charles looked back out the window thoughtfully, and didn't speak for the remainder of the drive.

* * *

After they got back, Raven and Charles met in Raven's room to discuss The Plan.

"I'll take notes," Raven told him. "First you've got to meet him, right? So that's Step 1."

Charles chewed on his lower lip. "I don't know. I think that depends on _how_ I'm meeting him. There might need to be some preparation."

Raven rolled her eyes. "Stop over thinking it. Here's the plan: meet him, talk to him, take him on a date. One, two, three. This is romance; you're good at this stuff. You'll charm him in no time."

Charles snorted. " 'Romance,' Raven? Really?"

Raven just raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Charles sat back in his chair and sighed. "Give me some time to think about it," he said. "I'll have a plan by tomorrow."

* * *

The first thing Charles did was look up Erik Lehnsherr's tour schedule online. It turned out that he was scheduled to speak in London in a week, so he probably wasn't going anywhere. He spent the rest of his day when he wasn't studying in the lab with the duck eggs, thinking about how best to win Lehnsherr's attention without sacrificing his own principles. As he weighed each egg and jotted down the data, he decided that having a conversation with the man was the best approach. There was no need for Charles to present himself as a potential lover straight away, just . . . impress him. Favorably.

Charles wasn't comfortable lying, though – at least, not to a certain extent. He felt he owed it to Lehnsherr to at least give him the option of turning Charles down while they were on equal footing, which ruled out pretending to be a fan or something similar. By the end of his last class the next day, Charles had a plan.

On Monday afternoon, Charles found Lehnsherr's hotel and room number (most certainly not by following him around in his car – that would be silly), and several minutes later, Charles took a deep breath and slipped an envelope under his door. The letter said, in Charles's best calligraphy (which was very good, because he had been brought up to know how to do these things properly):

_Dear Mr. Lehnsherr,_

_You are cordially invited to speak at Oxford University. Please contact Charles Xavier, Pembroke College, Oxford. _

Charles added no other information, so Lehnsherr would have to come looking for him in person. The envelope was addressed simply to Mr. Lehnsherr.

That evening, when Charles got back to the lab, several of the duck eggs had cracks on their surfaces. Charles brought them back to his room and stayed up half the night watching them hatch, one by one, a smile on his face. It was almost enough excitement for Charles to forget about Lehnsherr. They were so small, and they all cheeped faintly at him as they emerged into the world.

By the morning, Charles was a mother to eight little ducklings.

* * *

Charles updated his blog every Tuesday morning, without exception.

Charles shifted the webcam on top of his computer to the correct angle. He squinted at his own image on the screen and slicked back his hair. He turned on the camera and beamed. "Happy Tuesday! I hope you'll forgive me if I'm a bit distracted or if you hear any strange noises, because . . ." Charles titled the camera and gave it an excellent view of his ankles. The ducklings were still cheeping gently, as they had been for the last five hours. "There's been some new additions to my, ah, family of one. Say hello, ducklings," he cooed at them. They crowded closer to his feet and cheeped up at him. Charles tilted the camera back into place and grinned. "Yes, they're very cute. As you might be able to guess, I've been a bit preoccupied lately, so I'm afraid I won't be able to address all of your comments today.

"However, this week is also exciting because an exclusive interview with Erik Lehnsherr aired on Friday. If you've seen the interview – and if you haven't, there's a link below this video – you'll know that Mr. Lehnsherr made some very interesting points about how mutants are portrayed in the media." Charles easily chatted away, his eye on the timer he kept next to his computer. He could have talked about mutant rights for hours, really, which was why he blogged about them in short videos. Many, many videos.

Charles had tried to find a way around talking about Lehnsherr this week, he really had, but it was that or babble about ducklings and the slight genetic mutation one of them had that was evident on its left foot, and he didn't really think his viewers would appreciate that. He wrapped up the video with a quick thank you, another shot of the ducklings (because really, they were amazing creatures, and did you know that they they can swim as soon as they hatch?), and a promise to discuss the newest mutant power restriction law next week. Then Charles got up, picked up his bag, and went to class.

* * *

When Erik found the letter late Monday night, he was, to say the least, confused. He had not sent anything to Oxford University, he did not know anyone at Oxford University, and he certainly did not know a Charles Xavier.

Erik contemplated ignoring it altogether, but Oxford wasn't far away and he didn't see how it could hurt. He wasn't doing anything, and he was ready to slam his head against his desk repeatedly if he didn't get out of his cramped hotel room. So early Tuesday afternoon, he rented a car and drove to Oxford. He found Trinity College easily enough, but had no idea what to do after that. He walked into what seemed to be some sort of administrative office, and went up to the front desk.

"Hello," said the woman at the front desk. "How can I – oh! Mr. Lehnsherr, is it? I didn't know you were in the area. Must be for the conference next week."

"Yes," said Erik awkwardly. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to ask for her name now or not, but she plowed on ahead.

"What brings you here today? How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for . . ." Erik glanced at the piece of paper in his hand. "Charles Xavier."

The woman at the front desk looked at Erik blankly. "You're looking for _Charles Xavier?" _

"Oh, I know where you can find Charles."

Erik turned around, and he and the woman the front desk both stared at the girl standing in front of them. She had wavy blonde hair and an infectious smile. She stuck out a hand. "I'm Raven."

Erik took it tentatively. "Erik Lehnsherr. A pleasure to meet you." Raven just grinned. There was a moment of awkward silence. "So, ah, how do I find Mr. Xavier? Or is it Dr. Xavier?" he asked the room at large.

"Mister," said the woman behind the front desk.

"You should call him Doctor, though. He'd like that," said Raven, still grinning. "Come with me. I'll show you."

With a last glance at the woman at the front desk, Erik followed her outside. It was sunny and around lunch time, so many students were eating or studying in the open air.

"He's right over there," Raven told him, and nodded toward someone walking on the lawn. "Charles is the one with all the ducklings."

Erik blinked and looked at her. "Ducklings?"

"Yup. He's got the Ducklings, who follow him around asking for homework help, and the, uh, actual ducklings. Hey Charles!" she shouted, and Erik looked up.

"Oh, hello," a man called back. Erik stared. There were, in fact, a number of small yellow and brown ducklings trailing along behind him. The man stopped and shielded his eyes from the sun. The ducklings gathered immediately around his feet. As they got closer, Erik could see that he had brown hair and was dressed neatly, but not formally. He didn't look like a professor and seemed too young to be part of the administration, but then again, maybe Erik was a little out of step with these things. The hand fell from the man's eyes. "I see you've brought someone with you."

"Yes." Raven grinned.

The man offered a hand to Erik. "Charles Xavier."

Erik took it. Charles's skin was soft, but his grip was firm. He had very blue eyes. "Erik Lehnsherr."

"Are you here about the, ah . . . ?"

"Letter? Yes. Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all." Charles gestured towards a group of students sitting on the grass under a tree. They were all watching the exchange, though at Charles's gesture they all quickly averted their eyes and pretended to be studying. "I was just on my way to offer them some assistance."

"What do you teach?" asked Erik.

Charles laughed. "Them? Mostly how to pick up girls." The smile suddenly fell from his face and he looked nervous, as though he had said the wrong thing. "Not that I, um. Mostly the sciences, actually."

"I'll leave you to it," said Raven with a wink at Charles, and she walked off towards the other students.

There was an awkward silence, broken only by the cheeping of the ducklings, which Erik pretended not to notice. "Forgive me if I'm being rude," Erik said slowly, "But am I missing something?"

"Hmm? Oh." Charles blinked and seemed to snap back to reality. "Right. I was wondering if you'd like to have lunch and a chat. About things."

"Things," Erik repeated. He didn't normally browse through other people's possessions, but Charles was giving him nothing to go off of, so Erik gently called to any metal on Charles's person. It responded with a slight vibration only he could feel. There was metal in the strap of Charles's bag, the buckle of his belt, the rivets in his trousers, the rings of a binder, paper clips, a cell phone . . . and what felt like a fountain pen. Interesting.

"I don't suppose you've heard of me," Charles said. He looked embarrassed. "I run a blog. It's about your area of expertise."

Erik blinked. For a moment he though Charles meant metal, but of course there was no way he could know that, so he had to be talking about Erik's work with the politicians. Several things came together in his mind. "Not interested." He nodded once briefly, said "Good day," and turned to leave.

"Wait! How can you not be interested?" Charles caught up with Erik and fell into step with him. "I haven't explained anything yet." The ducklings cheeped and ran frantically to keep up with him.

"I don't do amateur interviews," Erik said shortly, and he lengthened his stride.

"What? No, this isn't an interview – Oh, _that's _why you got so angry. That's not what I meant at all." Charles stepped in front of Erik, forcing him to stop. Erik glared down into Charles's very large, blue eyes. "I'm not looking for anything from you. I just want to talk about your strategies and some of the finer points of your argument from a moral standpoint. Don't you think you're depending a little too heavily on the ideal that people always act logically? People act _emotionally, _especially with issues like this, and if you ignore that you're never going to win anyone over."

"I am not accustomed to people going out of their way to tell me that I'm wrong," Erik said very quietly. His tone was not pleasant.

"That doesn't make you right."

"Professor X!" called someone, and Charles looked up. A girl was running towards him, but she slowed when she saw who he was talking to. "Uh, is this a bad time?"

"Hello Angel," Charles said. "I wouldn't say it's bad, exactly, but it's not the best."

"Uh, okay. I'll see you later?"

Charles smiled. "Yes."

"Professor X?" Erik asked as she walked back towards where the other students were still gathered. "They don't know how to pronounce Xavier?"

"I'm not a professor," Charles said, clearly uncomfortable. "It's a nickname."

Erik laughed. It was a strange sound, and it would have made most people jump. Charles did not. He sighed.

Erik frowned at him. He was used to making people nervous or afraid of him, but Charles seemed only slightly worried that he wasn't saying the right thing. Charles was frowning slightly, and the expression didn't suit him. He seemed like the sort of person who shouldn't frown. "I'm not a reporter. I'm, well, I'm a friend, actually, if you'd like me to be." He met Erik's eyes, squinting against the sun. "I contacted you because I'm very interested in your work, and I respect you as a scholar, even if I disagree with your opinion." Erik inclined his head slightly, graciously. "Frankly, your position confuses me and I'd like to hear how you arrived at it. I wish you wouldn't dismiss me so quickly. I would have gone about this in a more straight-forward way if I had thought you would listen to me at all. So please, will you talk to me? Over coffee, perhaps?"

Erik mulled over this for moment. "No," he said, and Charles's face fell. "I'm not in the habit of talking to strangers. Good day, Mr. Xavier." He turned and walked away, leaving Charles looking after him while the ducklings cheeped at his feet.


	3. Chapter 3: If You Give Charles Ducklings

_Chapter 3: If You Give A Charles A Duckling_

Charles watched Erik walk away for far longer than he should have, lost in thought. After a while, he walked over to the other students, who were sitting on the grass under a tree.

"The Professor got a new boyfriend?" asked Angel with a smile.

"Don't any of you watch my blog?" asked Charles with a sigh. He collapsed on the ground at the feet of the other students. He rolled onto his back and put an arm beneath his head.

"No," the other students promptly chorused.

"Don't change the subject," said Alex.

Charles waved a hand dismissively. "Erik Lehnsherr is certainly not my boyfriend."

"That was_ Lehnsherr?" _exclaimed Sean. "But you talk about him all the time! He's, like, famous!"

"And apparently a dick," added Raven.

"Be nice." Charles closed his eyes. It was true that had he not seen into Lehnsherr's mind, he would have thought his personality was a bit . . . lacking. As it was, though, Charles felt that the man was allowed to be less than perfectly polite. Charles had kept out of his mind for the most part during their little chat (out of politeness and maybe partially out of guilt), but he had still peeked inside enough to get a better feel for who this man really was.

Whereas Cerebro had given Charles a view of the man's mind as a whole, with his own powers Charles could only see it in layers. The nice thing about it was that he could see details he had missed the first time. Lehnsherr already had some shields, though they were brittle and uneven. He probably wasn't even aware they were there. People usually only put up shields on accident when they felt somehow threatened by the world around them and when they had secrets to protect, and it was clear that they were somehow related to the constant current of loss and anger that Charles could feel flowing below the surface of his mind. He hadn't pried enough to find out what had caused those emotions, but it certainly hadn't been something minor.

It had been so strange to see the mind of the man Charles had only known before from interviews printed in magazines and the occasional clip on the telly. Everyone felt different to him, of course, but Erik was really something else. Even without the power of Cerebro, Charles had felt almost a magnetic attraction to the intense emotions and intelligence that he had found there.

Erik. Yes, well, he supposed that after being in someone's head that much, they deserved to be on a first-name basis.

"Even from this distance I could tell that he turned you down, and not very nicely," Raven was saying.

"As he should have, if that was what he wanted," Charles replied. "That was the whole point of asking, after all."

"What were you trying to do?" asked Darwin. "Ask him out on a date?"

Charles very carefully did not open his eyes. "Just to coffee."

"What," said Alex.

"No way," said Angel with a grin at the same time.

"Wait," said Hank slowly. "Is he the one you found the other night?"

Raven chuckled, which was all the answer they needed. The other students erupted into a chorus of, "Jeez, Prof! You could have told us!" and "Nice!" Charles winced.

"See?" said Raven. "I didn't tell them."

"Thanks," said Charles dryly.

"So what are you going to do now, if he turned you down?" asked Darwin. "You've got a plan, right?"

Charles felt something tickle his chin and he opened his eyes. He found that one of the chicks had jumped up onto his chest and was trying to curl up on his neck. He picked it up gently and sat up. "A plan?" he said absently. "Not so much." The other students went very quiet and he looked up. They were all watching him. "What is it?"

"The way Raven explained it, this guy is basically your soul mate," said Sean.

Charles considered being annoyed at Raven for mentioning it, but he supposed it was fair since Sean and Angel hadn't been there. He raised his eyebrows. "Well, she explained wrong. It would be better to say . . ." He hesitated. "I'm very attracted to his mind," he ended lamely.

"So? He's still special, right? You should go charm him with your mutation stuff."

Charles smiled slightly. "I don't think that would work on him."

_"Professor."_

Charles stood up and brushed himself off, careful not to harm any of the ducklings. "Well, as lovely as it has been to talk with you all, I need to grind up some crickets to feed to the ducklings before I go back to the lab."

Everyone groaned. "That's gross," said Sean.

"And you're totally bailing," said Angel.

Charles grinned. "And you can't stop me. Have a nice day." He set off, the ducklings trailing behind him.

* * *

Charles was patient. He could wait for years if necessary to get what he wanted, and he had. That did not mean Charles was idle.

He had never bothered to research Erik Lehnsherr before because it hadn't seemed relevant. It was testament to how strongly Charles felt about politics that he had never wondered _why _Erik had the opinions he did. Erik's birthday, a list of his published works, and a short but uninformative biography were easy to find. More detailed information was harder to uncover, and Charles found himself looking at old newspaper clippings. Erik's parents were hardly ever mentioned, and it took a while for Charles to find out why.

Father, deceased. Mother, deceased. And both around the time of the riots in Poland.

"Oh," said Charles, and he felt such a strong wave of sympathy for Erik he hardly knew what to think.

* * *

Three days later, Charles was walking towards the library when he noticed Erik Lehnsherr walking towards him. Charles stopped and stared. "Erik?" Charles said in shock before he could remember that they weren't on a first-name basis. "What are you doing here?"

Erik smiled. "You may have invited me to Oxford under false pretenses, but when I tried to leave, I was accosted by several of your faculty. It turns out they are actually very interested in having me speak."

Charles looked at him blankly. "Today? But I haven't heard anything about it."

"Just the way I like it. It's very short notice, I know, but I have a tight schedule because of the conference." He raised an eyebrow at Charles, and Charles felt a wave of satisfaction come off him. "It starts in twenty minutes. Are you free?"

Charles's mouth worked emptily for a moment. He was, in fact, free. His last class had just ended several minutes ago. He was tempted to look in Erik's head to see if he had known that, but decided against it. "Only if you agree to get coffee with me afterwards," he finally said.

Erik smiled. "Very well. I'll see you then." He strode off, leaving Charles feeling both elated and quite out of his depth.

* * *

Charles made sure to get to the lecture hall very soon before Erik was to start speaking, because he did not want to be alone with Erik, who was clearly trying to prove some kind of point. He suspected that this point was that Charles was wrong. Unfortunately, by the time he got there the lecture hall was almost full.

Charles pushed open the door and was met with the sight of Erik leaning casually against the wall, his notes already organized on the podium. He gave Charles what looked very close to a smirk. Charles frowned slightly at him and made his way up the stairs to the back rows. There were titters and whispers as the other students noticed the ducklings trailing along at his feet.

"Mr. Xavier," drawled Erik, and Charles froze. "You've lost one."

Charles looked at him, and then at the stairs behind him. A stray duckling, one of the smallest, had gotten trapped on one of the steps. Despite its best attempts, it couldn't jump high enough to clamber over the step, and it was cheeping frantically. With a sigh, Charles went back and scooped it up in his hand. Most of the students nearby _aww_ed at that, and Charles held the duckling firmly to his chest as he made his way slowly back up the stairs. The rest of the ducklings made it safely up the steps with him, and Charles picked a seat on the end so that they wouldn't disturb anyone else with their antics.

Charles scanned the room, looking for anyone he knew. He didn't see anyone he recognized immediately, but he did notice Sean, Alex, and Raven sneaking in through the door at the last second. He frowned at them, and though they were clearly looking for him, they didn't see him. Charles didn't have any more time to dwell on it, because Erik moved to the podium and the lecture began.

Erik didn't speak immediately. He simply put both hands on either side of the lectern and waited for the room to quiet. It quieted amazingly fast. When he spoke, his voice was calm, as though he did this every day. "I am here today to talk to you about the history of mutant rights, specifically in the decade of the 1970s."

It was the first time Charles had had an opportunity to study Erik like this, and he didn't waste it. He wasn't close to him, exactly, but he had a clear view, and it was amazing how different it was to see Erik speak in person. Even all the close-up shots in the studio interviews didn't quite compare. Charles kept close tabs on what he was saying, even though he already knew most of it. When Erik said "protests that claimed many lives," Charles's attention shot from Erik's stubble (was it because of laziness, or was it supposed to look that scruffy?) to his words.

"Unfortunately, there have been few major breakthroughs since that time," Erik continued, and Charles was surprised to notice that his jaw was much tenser than it had been when he started. "Though violence is now the realm of extremist groups, dialogue between human politicians and the mutant populations around the world remains strained at best."

Charles bit his lip and forced himself to keep his hand down. _Of course it's still strained, _he protested angrily in his head. _Any group like ours with this much history is going to cause tensions. It's a controversial issue, but that doesn't mean it's not progressing. _

"The first law passed regarding mutants was discriminatory. Six of the ten most recent laws passed are also, and a larger number could be debated." Erik went on in this vein for several more minutes, detailing the legislative process and the terms of the laws. Charles ground his teeth and resisted the urge to argue it out with Erik right then and there. _Of course _not all the laws were beneficial. That was how the legal system _worked. _

When Erik finally made it clear he was getting to end of this section of the lecture, Charles couldn't take it anymore. He raised his hand, and from the way the students around him looked at him, he knew there was a very good chance he would regret this.

It took him a moment, but Erik noticed. There was a pause, and he looked up at Charles with a decidedly guarded expression. "Mr. Xavier?" he said finally, and Charles brought his hand down.

"What was the first beneficial law passed in regard to mutants?"

Erik blinked. Charles was breathing too fast, as though he had just run up the stairs instead of sitting for the past half hour. He stared at Erik, wishing _Please, take the bait, just this once, _and Erik did.

"The first law not discriminatory against mutants was passed in 1978 in the United States of America, and it decreed that freedom of speech applied to mutants as well as to humans. The first such law in the United Kingdom was approved a year later, and it said fundamentally the same thing." Erik said it to the room, not to Charles, and entirely without looking at his notes. Charles smiled, and it wasn't just because Erik had answered his question. Erik cared enough about his field of study to know all the details, even the ones that weakened his argument. Erik would not lie to protect his own point of view. It wasn't him agreeing that Charles was right, but it was a start.

Erik Lehnsherr liked to emphasize the negative aspects of mutant-human relations, but that didn't mean he entirely disregarded the good.

* * *

The lecture ended, and everyone got up to leave. Charles hung back with the ducklings, out of everyone's way and where he could see Erik packing up. Erik only had one notepad of notes which he tucked in his leather jacket, but when he was done he waited for Charles without managing to look like he was waiting. Charles finally came down the steps after the last few people had vacated their seats. There were several students already talking to Erik. Erik answered their questions patiently and in a voice too low for Charles to hear him. The students thanked him and went out the door, leaving Charles and Erik alone.

"Did you have anywhere in mind?" Erik asked. Charles could feel that Erik desperately wanted to know what Charles had to say about his lecture, but he was purposefully avoiding the subject as though he didn't care.

"There's a place just across the street," Charles replied just as casually. "It's frequented by university students who want something cheap, but the coffee is good quality." Erik made his way towards the door and Charles fell into step beside him. He almost forgot about the ducklings, but Erik didn't. He held the door open for them (and, subsequently, also kind of Charles) and seemed a little concerned about stepping on them. Charles smirked inwardly and decided that he wouldn't be the one to bring them up. It was a well-known rule that no one, not even mysterious men with scruff who wore leather jackets, was immune to the charms of small fluffy animals. If Erik was distracted by them, he would be that much less on his guard, and right where Charles wanted him.

"You said you run a blog."

"Yes." Charles mentally winced; he really shouldn't have brought that up right away. "I go through the news reports on mutant rights around the world, and then I give updates and commentary via video. I also moderate a forum on the topic, and I usually take a few minutes to answer questions from there and the comments on my videos."

"Do you mention me?" Erik sounded only mildly curious.

"A bit, yeah." Massive understatement.

"Are you hoping to influence the debates? Garner some sort of support for your own ends?"

"It's mostly to spread information to potential voters," Charles admitted. "I don't think I will ever go into politics. I don't have the cutthroat attitude required."

What might have been a smile tugged at the corner of Erik's mouth. "I haven't seen any evidence of that so far."

"Oh. I apologize if I was too forward during your lecture."

Erik made a non-committal noise. "At least you listened."

"Yes, I did."

"And?" Erik cocked his head to one side and smiled, clearly inviting Charles to express how much he disagreed with him.

Charles smiled charmingly in return. Charles was used to putting people at ease almost immediately, but the tenseness had only just gone out of Erik's shoulders and it was the first time he had seen Erik show a real smile. He got the impression that Erik didn't smile often. "Why don't you give more lectures?" Charles asked, sidestepping the question. "I can only ever find interviews with you. I just learned more about your point of view than from all the questions asked by those talk show hosts."

"I find that people are more likely to watch something that they are familiar with than listen to me talk for an hour."

"_I_ didn't mind listening to you talk for an hour." Charles smiled, Erik met his eyes, and okay, maybe Charles was definitely flirting with him now. When Erik said nothing, Charles finally answered his previous question. "I found your lecture very interesting. It was a good decade to discuss, and one that most people would have skimmed over. You are quite a good speaker."

"Hmm. Compliments don't work on me."

Charles laughed. "I'm afraid it's a natural part of my personality. You'll have to get used to it."

They had reached the coffee house. Erik pushed open the door, but Charles hesitated. "I hate to ask, but would you mind ordering for me? I don't want to . . ." He gestured at the ducklings at his feet.

Erik glanced at them. "Of course. What would you like?"

Charles hurriedly fished out some cash and handed it over. "A caramel macchiato, please."

Erik nodded and disappeared inside. With a sigh, Charles found a table outside and sat down. The poor ducklings looked exhausted after the long walk, and most of them immediately went to sleep at his feet. Charles looked in through the window and found that he could see Erik waiting in line. He put his chin in his hand and studied him. Erik was very handsome, really. Charles had always known that, but he had dismissed it as movie-star good looks: good for getting his way, but not to be admired lest Charles should let it influence his opinion of Erik's work. Really, though, it was difficult to not appreciate that kind of beauty.

Erik sat down across from him and handed him his coffee. Charles took it and let it warm his hands; it was cool in the shade. Erik set down his change and pushed it across the wrought iron table. As Charles picked it up with a, "Thank you so much," he eyed Erik's own coffee with a critical eye. Whatever it was, it smelled black.

Some of the ducklings woke up at the disturbance, and Erik carefully maneuvered his feet so he wasn't in danger of stepping on any of them. He frowned slightly. "May I ask about the ducklings?"

To be honest, Charles was impressed that Erik had held out for that long. Charles smirked slightly. _Excellent_. "Oh, yes. Their mother abandoned them, for whatever reason." Charles looked fondly at them. "I couldn't really resist. I have a soft spot for _Anatidae_." Erik looked at him blankly. "Ducks and geese and things," Charles explained apologetically. "Mallards especially. We had some in the pond at home."

"Ah." Erik didn't pursue the topic, though Charles could feel curiosity leaking out of him. Charles felt extremely pleased with himself. Curiosity was good. "So," Erik said, getting straight back to the point, "What do you disagree with most about my work?"

Charles smiled. "I think you misunderstand me. I don't disagree with history. I disagree with your selective analysis of it."

Erik's eyebrows rose. "Selective? You think talking about the things people would rather forget is selective?"

"It is if you leave out all the good parts that give people something to hope for." Erik snorted. "I'm not an idealist," Charles continued, heading off the comment he knew Erik was going to make. "It's important to look at both sides, but you can't ignore facts for your own ends."

Erik tilted his head slightly. "And you don't?"

"Since we've finally gotten to our points of view, I suppose I might as well state mine." Charles gave Erik a look that was carefully calculated to be somewhere between flirtatious and unapologetic. "I believe that the mutant movement and conflicts were all significant mistakes, and if we don't do something soon we're going to end up repeating them, albeit on a somewhat small scale."

"The elections."

"Yes."

"Then I don't see what the problem is. I agree with you completely."

Charles's eyebrows rose. "What?"

"Widespread violence and upheavals are certainly not the answer. However, I'm not sure complete integration is either."

Charles's mouth immediately tightened. He very carefully put himself in check. This was not an appropriate time to show his anger. "What is, then? Partial integration? Reverse segregation? Put the humans in camps?"

Charles realized too late that he hadn't been careful enough. Erik looked down at his coffee and Charles was hit with a wall of fear, hatred, and anger so strong Charles had to close his eyes to remember how to breath. When he finally opened his eyes, Erik was still looking at his coffee. A muscle jumped in his jaw. "No," he said shortly. Charles carefully filed that information away.

"I'm sorry," Charles said honestly. "I overreacted." He looked down at his own coffee. "I believe nothing like this is ever easy," he said quietly. "The humans have a lot of reasons not to trust us, and we have a lot of reasons to not trust them. But if we want equality, trust is essential. It requires work on both sides and it will take time. There's nothing wrong with admitting that we're different, but . . ." Charles sighed. "In history, segregation has never gone well. Integration may require scarifies, but there are some we have to be willing to make."

"We've made enough sacrifices."

Charles looked up. Erik was looking into the distance, and his emotions were a cloud of anger and sorrow. "Agree to disagree?" Charles said softly.

Erik looked at him. Charles offered him a hand, and with a slight smile, Erik shook it. "Agreed."

* * *

_Author's note:_ Btw, I'm completely BSing the details of the history of mutant rights. Let me know if some of it seems completely out of place.


	4. Chapter 4: Cheeper By the Dozen

_Chapter 4: Cheeper By the Dozen_

When they finished their coffee, Erik and Charles went back to campus. "Oxford is just lovely," Charles was saying. "It's a pity you're not interested in genetics. I'm doing the most interesting research–" He suddenly stopped talking and looked up alertly. His steps slowed. "Oh no," he muttered under his breath.

"What is it?" Erik asked, immediately scanning the view in front of them. A small group of students seemed to be making their way towards them.

"I'm sorry about this, I really am," Charles said quickly. "Don't take anything they say too seriously."

Erik frowned at him, but before he had time to question him, the students were upon them. Erik recognized Raven and the other girl (Angel?) from before. They were an odd mix of ages, but they were all wearing the exact same grin. "Hello," said a redhead.

"Hello," Erik said cautiously, and he held out his hand because that was the sort of thing you were supposed to do in these situations. "I'm Erik Lehnsherr."

"Oh, we know," said a blond kid meaningfully. No one took Erik's hand, and he awkwardly withdrew it.

Charles sighed. "Erik – may I call you Erik? I'm sorry, I never asked, very rude of me –" (Erik was about to say that yes, it was fine, but Charles just kept talking) "these are some of my fellow classmates. That's Sean, Darwin, Alex, Angel, and of course you met my sister Raven." Sister. Ah.

"A pleasure to meet you," Erik said politely.

"We liked your talk," piped up Darwin. "Really interesting."

"Speaking of," said Charles, "Why were you there? I thought politics bored you." He raised an eyebrow at the group.

Angel eyed Erik appreciatively. "We've gotta keep an eye out for you, Prof. Make sure you're not making friends with the wrong people."

Charles rolled his eyes. Erik smiled. "And what's the verdict?" he asked her.

Raven gave him a flirtatious smirk. "Oh, I think you'll do just fine."

_"Raven,"_ Charles ground out. She just laughed. "I really do apologize my for my friends," he said to Erik.

"Not at all," Erik said, his smile widening into a brief grin. "I like them."

"You want a tour around campus?" asked Raven.

Erik glanced at Charles. "Ah . . ."

"I'm sure he has better things to do . . ." said Charles.

"Great," said Angel excitedly, and the group set off, giving Charles and Erik little choice but to follow.

"So, you're really into this mutant rights stuff, huh?" Alex said to Erik, clearly attempting to be casual.

"Yes," said Erik.

"And you're like, famous or some shit?"

"Alex."

"Sorry, Prof."

"I am well-known," Erik said with some amusement.

"So what brings you to our humble university?"

Charles rolled his eyes. Erik put his hands in his pockets. "I'm staying nearby, and . . . I thought I'd drop by. I am attending a conference on mutant politics throughout history, including present legislation, in London next week. It's the full week, though I will only be speaking on a few of the days."

Raven laughed. "Wow. That's _exactly_ what Charles was just talking to me about the other day."

Erik exchanged a knowing glance with Charles. "Well, it's a very important topic."

"Soooo, you'll be leaving?" said Sean. Erik looked at him blankly.

"Of course. Erik doesn't live here," said Charles humorously, but it seemed forced. Erik frowned slightly.

"That's too bad," said Darwin. "Has Charles–?" Luckily, Raven clamped a hand over his mouth before he could say more.

_I have not asked Erik to dinner, if that's what you were implying, _Charles carefully projected to all of them except Erik. Everyone rolled their eyes. Erik looked slightly alarmed. Charles smiled at him innocently.

Charles's face suddenly went pale and he stopped walking. "Oh my gosh, what time is it?" He glanced at his watch. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I have to check on something in the labs. I'll run and just be a moment." He looked at Erik. "Terribly sorry, just . . . stay here. And you too," he told the ducklings. "You can't keep up with me at a run, no matter how hard you try." They cheeped at the sound of his voice and huddled closer to him. Charles sighed and stood closer to Erik. "Look," he told them as seriously as if he could understand him, "Erik is a perfectly nice chap, I can tell, and I'll only be gone for a few minutes, so just stay with him, would you?" He took a few steps away quickly and the ducklings frantically raced after him. _"No,"_ Charles cried at them, and Raven and Sean dissolved into fits of laughter.

"They seem to think you're their mother," Erik said with mild amusement. "I wouldn't accept me as a replacement if I were them, either."

"Erik, don't be hard on yourself, I'm sure you'd be–"

"Charles."

The group stopped smiling and turned around. A woman dressed in a neat white skirt and jacket was walking towards them, and she did not look pleased. Charles immediately walked to the front of the group and straightened his jacket. "Director Frost," he said. He carefully pulled any stray tendrils of thought inside his walls, and he knew Emma Frost had already done the same. After a confrontation during Charles's first year, they were both careful to keep well to themselves. The ducklings gathered around his feet, cheeping anxiously.

The woman's gaze raked over all of them, resting briefly on Erik, and came to a stop on Charles. She stopped just in front of him. "There was a serious breach of security nearly a week ago," she said icily, and arched an eyebrow. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, I suppose."

"Security for what?" Charles asked carefully.

"The Cerebro prototype," she bit out. The ducklings backed away from her, and thus from Charles. Erik was the next closest person, and Erik noticed distantly that they were now huddling around his own feet. They had also gone very quiet. "The door was opened at a time when no personnel were on site early Sunday morning. There was therefore a presumed but unconfirmed and unauthorized use of the prototype itself. I have spent the last several _days_" – she ground out the last word, making it clear that this was time she did not have – "trying to determine exactly who would have been able to break in almost undetected and have the capabilities to use the prototype. Unfortunately, all the data is . . . inconclusive."

"Ah," said Charles.

"If it happens again," Ms. Frost said, very slowly and very quietly, "Those responsible will be stripped of whatever privileges they have here and will be banned from this campus."

"Understood."

She gave him one last glare, and then turned on her heel and stalked away. The ducklings immediately abandoned Erik for Charles and cheeped hopefully. "It's alright," Charles murmured to them. He looked at Erik and grinned weakly. "Hey, they finally decided they like you."

"What was that about?" Erik asked guardedly, and everyone in the vicinity immediately looked very guilty. They all crowded closer to Charles, and Erik automatically leaned in.

"We, uh, might have gotten drunk and broken into the lab," Darwin admitted in a quiet voice.

"What is this Cerebro she mentioned?"

"Don't you watch the news? It's cutting-edge technology," Sean said. "It lets telepaths extend their range way beyond normal."

"Ah, yes, I've seen the reports. I didn't know it had a name. Why bother to break in?" Erik asked, clearly not seeing the point.

Raven paused. "You know Charles is a telepath, right?"

Erik turned towards Charles very, very slowly. "What?" Erik said, his voice deadly calm.

Charles blinked at Erik, his mouth parted slightly. "I'm sorry, didn't I . . . ?"

"Tell me?" Erik finished. "No, you didn't."

Charles didn't need his mutation to know that Erik had just gotten very upset. "I haven't pried," he told Erik reassuringly. "I hope you'll forgive me for not mentioning it right away, but I forget that it makes some people uncomfortable."

"How do I know you're not lying?" Erik hissed. "Have you been in my head this entire time?"

"No," said Charles. "You would know if I were in your mind. If you'd like . . ." he wiggled his fingers, "I could show you."

Erik hesitated. The very idea of a telepath set him on edge. In his experience, anyone who had the ability to manipulate people could not be trusted. However, it was true that Charles had given no sign that he was untrustworthy, and he was clearly very thoughtful about what other people wanted. Strangely enough, Erik also got the impression that Charles _liked _him, even though they disagreed on politics. And really, come to think of it, Erik kind of liked him too.

Erik gave a brisk nod. Slowly, as though not to alarm Erik, Charles raised two fingers to his temple and closed his eyes. In the approximate five seconds that Erik had had to imagine what it would be like to have a telepath in his head, he had imagined that it would be like having a cold disembodied voice talking to him, and that it would generally be unpleasant. It was not like that at all.

It was a very warm feeling, as though Charles's entire charming, pleasant personality had just settled into a corner of Erik's mind. _I still won't pry, I promise, _Charles's voice said, and Erik felt something from him that was very much like approval. _You have a very nice mind, by the way. _

_Amazing, _Erik thought vaguely. And also surprisingly familiar.

_Yes, I am amazing, aren't I, _Charles thought smugly before he was abruptly kicked out of Erik's head.

Charles winced and brought his fingers down from his temple. "What was that for?"

"You've been in my head before."

Charles stared at him in surprise. "You can tell?"

Erik frowned at him. "Why were you there?"

Charles looked somewhat embarrassed. "I am sorry about that. It was an accident. It was when I was using the, er, prototype. I only got a very general impression, and I didn't know it was you, but I thought . . ." Erik arched an eyebrow and Charles bit his lip uncomfortably. "I found out it was you, and I thought it might be nice for us to talk."

Erik stared at him. There was clearly something something Charles was not saying. "So you really didn't want an interview with me about my work," he clarified.

"Well . . . not exactly." Charles rubbed his temple with a sigh. "But that was part of it."

"Hmm." Charles was wearing a watch on his left wrist. With a slight twitch of his fingers, Erik reformed the metal of the wristband. "A Rolex," Erik said. "You weren't wearing it last time."

"Ah, yes, I don't wear it on days when I'm doing something messy in the lab." Charles felt something tickling his wrist and looked down. "Gosh," he said. He watched with fascination as the metal sent long tendrils up his arm, twisting and curling like vines. "You can do this?" he asked without looking up, sounding impressed. Erik had expected fear. Interesting.

"Yes." _It's only fair_, he thought loudly in Charles's direction.

_Ah, _said Charles faintly in his mind. The tendrils began to spiral outward, reforming into something resembling a sleeve. "Please stop, though. It was a gift."

Erik carefully let it fall back into its previous shape. "How am I to trust you?"

Charles looked up at him and smiled. "Rather the same way I trust you, I imagine. I won't read your mind if you'd rather I didn't."

"I'd like it if you stayed out."

Charles looked disappointed, but he nodded. "Why don't you ever mention that?" He nodded towards his watch. "You say that no one should hide."

Erik hummed. "I do not hide, but I find it is better not to draw attention to it. It is a power that has been used in the past to cause . . . great destruction."

It was clear from Charles's drawn face that he could remember several such incidents from years when mutant violence was prevalent. "I am sorry. I fear I suffer from a similar prejudice." He looked away, and for a moment he looked very sad. When he looked up again, he was smiling. "I'm sorry to leave you so suddenly, but I really do have to go check on something in the lab," he said apologetically. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Erik nodded and Charles walked off, the ducklings at his heels.

"Phew," said Darwin. "Close call."

Erik turned to look at the students. He had forgotten they were even there. He wasn't sure if Darwin was talking about him and Charles or their encounter with that woman Frost, but he didn't have much opportunity to find out.

"Cool mutation," Alex said as casually as he could.

"Thanks," Erik said dryly. He could tell all of them really wanted to impress him now. Great.

"We can all do cool stuff too," Sean said, just in case Erik wasn't paying them enough attention.

"You're all mutants?" Erik asked.

"Yup. Professor X kind of . . . took us under his wing when we got here." Angel shrugged. "He already had Raven, obviously, but the rest of us were having kind of a hard time fitting in."

Raven grinned. "Charles has a thing about taking care of things."

Erik thought of the ducklings. "I've noticed," he said dryly. Might as well humor them. "So what can you do?"

"I have wings," said Angel, and she took off her jacket to reveal a halter top. They unfurled from her back and Erik couldn't help a slight raise of an eyebrow, impressed.

Beside her, Raven suddenly turned very blue, and then looked like an exact copy of Erik. She grinned at . . . himself. Erik blinked. He had known his smile was intimidating, but that was a whole new level of disturbing. The other students laughed.

"Hey, stop showing off," said Sean. "That's not fair. You know that Alex and I can't use ours out here, and it's difficult for Darwin."

"Punch him," Raven suggested, now blond again. Alex complied. Suddenly, Darwin was heavily armored in what appeared to be solid rock. Alex winced and shook out his hand.

Something wasn't quite right, though. He eyed Sean and Alex, who both still looked a little put out. "Who told you that you can't use your mutations here?"

"Uh, the government?" said Alex.

"Yeah. Mine isn't that big a deal, but Alex would seriously mess shit up."

Erik frowned. "The law against use of mutations was repealed."

"There are still laws against property damage," Sean pointed.

"And hearing loss," said Raven, giving Sean a pointed look.

None of the children looked particularly concerned. Erik raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't that bother you?"

They all looked at him. "Wow, you really are like Prof," said Angel.

"This is getting kind of creepy, actually," said Sean. "Are you sure he hasn't somehow put you on the same brain wavelength, or something?"

"Yeah," said Raven. "I kind of thought Charles was joking." Everyone nodded in agreement. Before Erik could ask what they meant, however, he saw Charles making his way towards them.

"Erik!" Charles called happily. "I hope they haven't been too much of a nuisance."

"Not at all," said Erik. "They were just showing me what they can do."

Charles's eyes flickered to Alex and Sean. "Ah."

"I wasn't aware that laws currently in place were indirectly so discriminatory."

Charles met his gaze, his eyes searching. Erik felt a slight flicker of Charles against his mind, but it was quickly gone. "Yes," said Charles. "It's a problem."

"I'll be sure to discuss it at the conference."

"A good idea."

They stared at each other a moment. Charles desperately wanted to read Erik's head, or at least speak to him that way, but he wasn't about to disrespect his wishes (especially not so soon). Erik, for his part, seemed to be challenging Charles to disagree with him. Charles didn't, exactly, but he didn't like how angry Erik felt about it either.

"Well, if you two are finished," Raven said with an eye-roll. "Erik, do you want to go to dinner with us? We're going out to pizza."

_We are? _Charles asked her.

_We are now. _

Erik thought it over. "Perhaps lunch tomorrow?"

"Aw, I can't make it," said Sean.

Raven shot him a look. "That would be great. You're free, right, Charles?"

Actually, Charles desperately needed to spend some more time in the lab, and he had a report, and his thesis wasn't going to write itself. Erik looked at him. Charles looked at Erik. "Yes, certainly," he found himself saying instead. "Half past twelve, perhaps? Here?"

Erik nodded. He dropped Charles's gaze and Charles found that he could think clearly again. "Would you mind showing me the way out?" Erik asked the group.

"Yup," came the chorus, and the group led Erik back to his car. After he had driven away, everyone looked at Charles. Sean gave him the thumbs-up.

"A-plus," said Angel.

"Good job, man," said Alex. Darwin and Raven just grinned.

Charles rolled his eyes. "Oh, be quiet, all of you."

"You've got tickets to that conference, right? Front-row seating?"

"It's not _like _that," Charles protested. "It's a _conference. _I'm not invited at all!"

"Live feed, then?" said Darwin. "Watch it online, live blog it?"

"We could probably hook you up, if there isn't going to be one."

Charles laughed. "Enough! I think you're all forgetting that we've barely met. This is only the second time he's talked to me, you know."

"If you let him go, we're not going to be pleased," Alex warned him.

"Yeah. Don't let this one go. It's all on you now."

"No pressure," Raven added. "We love you."

"We love you lots."

"Group hug!" yelled Raven, and everyone tackled him.

"Ducklings! Ducklings!" Charles gasped out.

"They're all safe." Raven slung her arms around Charles's neck and hugged him the tightest. "I'm not kidding, Charles. You had better go after this guy with everything you've got."

Charles smiled. "I will."


	5. Chapter 5: The Very Hungry Duckling

_Chapter 5: The Very Hungry Duckling_

Predictably, no one else showed up for lunch.

Charles really hadn't expected anything less from Raven, and he did silently give a her a thumbs-up for the effort. He felt a bit awkward standing alone with the ducklings, though, because appearing to have set Erik up on (another) unwilling date was pushing his own boundaries of gentlemanly flirting. It also might ruin his perfectly constructed plan. When he saw Erik striding towards him and felt the emotions that Erik wasn't bothering to hide behind his walls – recognition, mild surprise, and acceptance – he found that he had nothing to worry about.

"Everyone else is busy," Charles explained apologetically. "How are you?"

"Ah," said Erik. He ran a hand absently over the stubble on his chin. "Well. And you?"

"Quite well." He gave Erik his most charming smile, the one that never failed to put others at ease. "What would you like to eat?"

* * *

Erik, as he had to explain to Janos every time someone attractive interviewed him, did not have a type. But if he did have a type, Charles would fit it to a T.

As a rule, Erik had always been rather wary of telepaths. From a political standpoint, pro-mutant or not, telepaths were a nightmare. It was easy enough to apply existing privacy laws to most mutants – but for to apply them to telepaths, they would have to outlaw that telepaths ever use their powers, which was not only wrong but impossible. On a more personal level, Erik liked his privacy.

But.

But Erik had never met anyone before who was all at once kind, intelligent, and stubborn enough to rival even Erik. Charles might not be the most thoughtful person Erik had ever met, but since that wasn't exactly a quality Erik embodied, he wasn't about to complain. It was also clear that Charles's telepathy was just as much a part of Charles as Erik's mutation was a part of him, and Erik could not begrudge another mutant his powers when he was confronted with them like this. (Drowning in Charles's blue eyes was just a bonus.) Erik couldn't deny that he was drawn to Charles in a way he hadn't been drawn to anyone in a long time, and that despite himself, he trusted Charles implicitly. Erik was curious. He had never met anyone quite like Charles before, and he wanted to know more.

So when Erik discovered himself on what was clearly a date, unintentional or not, he found he didn't exactly mind.

They decided to just walk around and get whatever looked good. The ducklings seemed excited to be out on the town, though Charles kept having to stop and wait for them when they hopped off the sidewalk to look at something interesting. Erik asked Charles about his research, and Charles enthusiastically talked about mutations and pieces of DNA that meant nothing to Erik. They walked past a supermarket that had a display of fruit outside, and Erik stopped walking to browse. "Hank made this wonderful computer simulation showing the variations over time, and it's really quite – are peaches in season?"

"I don't think so," said Erik, whose hand had been hovering between the peaches and the tangerines. At that comment, he plucked a peach out of the display and checked it for ripeness.

"Probably all hard, then," Charles said, sounding disappointed.

Erik finally found one that was ripe. "This one isn't."

"Are you going to get it?"

"Yes. Dessert."

"Ah." Charles followed Erik inside, so used to the ducklings he didn't even notice the strange looks, and was quiet while he bought it. "I'm sorry, I've been boring you, haven't I?" he said once they walked back outside.

"Not at all." Erik tossed the peach in the air and caught it easily, though he was careful not to bruise it. "I don't understand what you're talking about, but I don't mind." He smiled at Charles. "I certainly don't blame you for not wanting to be a politician. It sounds like this sort of thing is much more interesting to you."

Charles was quiet for a moment while they walked. "It's really people who interest me the most," he finally said. "I've been asked if being a telepath takes all the mystery out of people, but I find it actually makes them much more fascinating."

Erik tossed the peach in the air again with a flick of his wrist and caught it. "Hmm."

"Oh, there's a sandwich shop just ahead. What do you think?"

"That sounds good."

They sat outside since the nice weather seemed to be holding, and it was too precious to waste. The ducklings curled up at their feet and went to sleep. Charles was wearing the watch again, and Erik listened to it tick while Charles spoke. He was grateful Charles had at least one thing made of metal on him. It let him feel the warmth of his skin.

"But that's more than enough about me," Charles said with a smile. "How is your work going?"

"I'm writing a new book."

"Really?" said Charles, and he looked absolutely fascinated. It was surprisingly easy to tell Charles. With the warmth of the sun on his back, he felt as though he'd known Charles for ages. Erik usually preferred to keep his research to himself, but Charles was clearly so interested he didn't mind. The book was a history, of course, but with more interpretation than his last one, and the conversation drifted briefly to a pleasant discussion of politics.

When Erik was done with his sandwich, he pulled out a pocket knife and cut into the peach. Charles watched the movement with fascination. "You're using your mutation."

Erik's mind smiled, even if his mouth didn't. "It's a game I play. I see how much I can make it look like I'm moving the knife with my hand without exerting any force on it." He finished the first slice and held it out to Charles, trapped between his thumb and the blade of the knife.

"Thank you," said Charles, and took it. He popped in his mouth while Erik watched. His eyes closed for a moment in purse bliss and Erik's mouth twitched. "Mmm. I can't remember the last time I had a peach," Charles said appreciatively. Erik offered him the second piece as well. Charles looked at him in surprise, but took it anyway. "You don't want any?"

"I can wait." When Charles politely refused the third piece, Erik ate it.

"You really prefer yellow peaches?" Charles blurted out. Erik looked at him and Charles blushed. "I'm sorry. You were projecting."

"I thought I asked you not to read my mind," Erik said mildly. "Is that how you could tell I was using my mutation?" Erik cut another slice and offered it to Charles.

"Yes. I wasn't trying to, though, I promise." Charles frowned slightly and tightened his shields. He had been surprised at the clarity of Erik's thought, because of course there had been no reason for him to be projecting like that. That meant it probably wasn't on Erik's end.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Does this happen a lot?"

Charles shook his head. "I'm really sorry. I think my brain is just trying to . . . tune into yours." Unfortunately, probably a result of Charles's unconscious desires. "It happens sometimes when I've started to feel particularly comfortable around someone." Which usually took at least a year or two. Hopefully the flirtatious glance would distract Erik.

Erik eyed him as he ate another slice of peach. "I don't mind, if you're really staying out of my head."

Charles smiled gratefully. "That's very kind." Erik handed him the last slice of peach and their hands brushed together. Charles had no problem watching Erik through his eyelashes while he ate it.

* * *

As far as Charles could tell, his plan was working perfectly. _Step 1: Lull target into false sense of security_ was complete. _Step 2: Woo target_ was in progress, but it needed something more daring, something to give Erik no illusions about Charles's -up lines would not work on Erik. Compliments would not work on Erik. So after lunch, Charles convinced Erik to play a game of chess.

"You must be very popular after all those televised interviews," Charles said as he moved a pawn forward.

"Hmm," said Erik, focusing more on his strategy than what Charles was saying.

"Do you get propositioned frequently, or is it usually more subtle than that?"

Erik looked up at Charles and blinked. "What?"

Charles smiled innocently and took his bishop. "People are attracted to fame of any degree, and with your good looks you must be quite popular. Don't tell me you haven't been tempted."

Erik made his next move. "I'm not looking for that."

"Oh?" When Erik looked up, Charles was looking at him. "What are you looking for?"

Oh. _Oh. _Erik hadn't played this game in a long time. He suddenly grinned, perfectly aware that he looked like a wolf that had just spotted its prey. "I'm very picky."

"Really. So am I." Charles smirked. He looked at Erik from underneath his eyelashes. Erik followed the movement of his tongue as he licked his lips, and watched them as they said, "Check."

Erik smiled and inclined his head. _Well played, Charles. Well played_. He moved himself out of danger – and right into another trap. Charles's smile widened. The sun hit his eyes just right, and when he met Erik's gaze he was breathtakingly beautiful.

Two minutes later, Erik was 90% certain that he had let Charles win on purpose, not because he had really, really nice eyes.

* * *

They walked back slowly to Erik's car, ostensibly to wait for the ducklings, but really because neither of them wanted to leave. "Are you available for dinner tomorrow, perhaps?" Charles asked when they reached it. Erik wondered whether he should pretend to have misunderstood. The way Charles said it, it could have been simply a friendly invitation, but that little smile . . .

Erik cleared his throat. "I'm going in to London tomorrow afternoon before the conference."

"Ah." Charles looked disappointed. "Well, if you change your mind . . ." Charles tapped two fingers to his temple and raised his eyebrows. "Do you mind?"

Erik projected the sense of, _Alright, but be careful _without thinking about it,and he felt Charles enter his mind briefly. When Charles withdrew, a phone number was burned into his brain. _Charles Xavier _was firmly attached to it. He blinked and his brain automatically filed it away. "A neat trick," said Erik.

Charles beamed. "Isn't it?"

Erik made a beckoning gesture with his fingers and Charles's mobile phone floated out of his pocket. It hovered in the air between them, and as Charles watched, Erik raised an eyebrow at it. Without touching it, he added himself as a contact and replaced it in Charles's pocket. It was admittedly a bit of a cheat – pulling buttons instead of pressing them, not actually touching the internal hardware – but judging from Charles's expression, it was suitably impressive.

"Well, even if you don't see me, I'll certainly be watching coverage of the conference," Charles said with a bright and amazingly convincing smile. "Good luck getting asked sensible questions."

"Thank you," Erik said dryly. Though they had talked only briefly about politics over lunch, Erik remembered their previous discussion on the topic, and he was silently grateful to Charles for taking him seriously and giving him something to think about. He didn't know if Charles had heard that thought, but Charles's mouth twitched in a way that might have indicated amusement. Erik smiled and unlocked his car without moving his hand.

"See you later," said Charles, and with a nod, Erik left. He wasn't very good at saying goodbye.

* * *

The next day, Erik checked out of his hotel room early and drove to London. He could have taken the train, but he liked to drive when he could, and he didn't mind if the traffic slowed him down. Once there, it took Erik only a few hours to adjust to the constant hum of metal that was the city. His hotel room was much nicer than the last one, but it didn't feel quite right. It took until nearly midnight for Erik to realize that he already missed Charles.

He had no desire to work on his book, and turning on the TV resulted in him testing how steadily he could switch channels without touching the remote. It took a good half hour of bargaining with himself and hesitation before he finally called his laptop over to him, opened it up, and typed in Charles's name. His Facebook account was the first hit. His blog was the second.

Erik opened the blog. There was a brief about description that told Erik nothing new, and a frozen image of Charles's smiling face on the front page that was his latest video. Erik considered watching it. Then he decided that if he was going to watch any of Charles's blog, he might as well start at the beginning.

The archives went back a good two years, but Charles hadn't always updated weekly. They started out once a month, then went to twice, and only within the last six months or so to once a week. The first video wasn't very useful from an academic or political standpoint. It was mostly Charles talking enthusiastically about things that were now completely irrelevant. Erik found it fascinating.

"Hello everyone. My name is Charles, and I'm in my – what is now?" he asked someone off camera, "My third year? – at Oxford University." Charles grinned blindingly.

"Yes," said a distant, amused voice that sounded familiar. Raven? "And you'll probably have your PhD in one."

Not quite, but apparently not far off the mark. So Charles was skipping ahead. _Of course he is, _said a small voice in the back of his head. _You aren't really surprised that he's a genius, are you?_

"Anyway," Charles said with an eye-roll at the person who was presumably his sister, "I happen to be really passionate about mutant rights, so I thought I'd talk to you a little bit about that." Charles brushed some of his hair out of his eyes as he turned to pick something up from his desk. His hair had been longer than, and it made him look astonishingly young. He returned with a newspaper and shoved it close to the camera. "This article, here," he said, leaning around awkwardly to point at it, "Was just in yesterday's paper, and it says that we mutants should be happy with what rights we've got." Charles put down the paper and raised his eyebrows at the camera. "Really? We should be happy?"

Erik leaned back in his chair and smiled. This Charles was very different from the one he had met. He was obviously passionate and not afraid to show it. "So you started with opinion pieces," he murmured at the screen as Charles began to expound on why exactly the writer of this particular one was very, very wrong. "When did you get to news?"

Erik hadn't planned on staying up until almost three in the morning watching the videos, but somehow he couldn't seem to stop. They were fascinating, really, and not just for the information they contained. He could _see_ how Charles's approach had changed, and though very little of the content of the videos was devoted to Charles's personal life, he got a very good idea of how much Charles had changed in the last few years. He also got a wake-up call to how much Charles might have not.

Somewhere around the third video, Charles mentioned Erik for the first time.

"This topic was brought up in a paper by Erik Lehnsherr. I don't think I've mentioned him before, but he's actually one of my favorite authorities on the subject. If you have a chance," Charles said, looking earnestly into the camera, "You should really give him a read."

Erik blinked. He thought back. He had probably only just released his first book, a collection of his papers, and was starting to come into the public eye. It wasn't unreasonable that Charles had been familiar with his work – it wasn't that long ago, after all – and of course Charles had wanted to meet him . . .

Charles then proceeded to tear Erik's argument in that particular paper apart.

Erik gave the Charles in the video an unimpressed glare. Really? Charles thought that Erik didn't know what he was talking about? Erik crossed his arms over his chest and snorted. He hoped that the current Charles wasn't just being polite, because if he really still disagreed with Erik _that _much, they were going to have some problems.

Four episodes later, all of which had contained some sort of reference to Erik's work (though Erik had given up being mad at Charles), Charles did a session of answering viewers' questions. Some of them were insightful. Some of them were inane. One of them froze Erik in his seat.

"Oned5ever asked, 'What would you do if you met Lehnsherr?' " Charles sat back thoughtfully. "Well, first I think I'd like to ask him how he arrived at his point of view on the whole thing, because really, I don't get it." Charles used his hands a surprising amount on camera, and he made a gesture that managed to convey an absolute loss for words. "After that . . ." Charles broke into a grin and he leaned closer to the camera. "To be honest, I think I'd rather like to give him a good snog. I mean, have you_ seen_ that man's eyes when he looks directly into camera?" Charles's expression was the kind of appreciative that could have gotten him sued. It suited him immensely.

Erik was so shocked he didn't know what to do with himself. When Charles grinned happily into the camera, Erik slunk down in his seat. Okay, maybe Charles wasn't as innocent as he had thought.

It certainly gave Erik something to think about while at the conference. He tried very hard not to look at the cameras when Charles crossed his mind, though he kept wanting to. Knowing that Charles was watching put him on edge in a way he hadn't expected. "The government is only going to listen to us if we demand that they suspend all human rights until we have absolute equality," said someone.

_What nonsense, _said a part of Erik that sounded surprisingly like a certain Charles Xavier. Erik found himself leaning forward and saying into his microphone, "I disagree." Everyone stared at him, and Erik realized that a week ago, he would have nodded along agreeably. "With the finer points of your argument," he amended. After all, he did not agree with Charles entirely.

"Is there someone you're trying to impress?" Janos asked when he drove Erik to his hotel Monday afternoon.

"No," said Erik shortly. "Why?"

Janos shrugged. "You were being more aggressive than usual."

"Hmph," said Erik, and ignored him for the rest of the drive.

* * *

It did not take a genius to notice that Charles was a bit distracted after lunch on Saturday, and that by Monday he was far more agitated than usual. Most people who knew him would have thought that it was because of the International Conference On Mutant Politics currently being held in London, which Charles was undoubtedly blogging about like crazy.

Raven was not most people.

"Will you stop biting your nails? We're trying to study here."

"Hmm?" Charles stopped biting his thumb nail just long enough to raise his eyebrows at Raven before he went right back to it.

"Ugh! Charles! And are you trying to _read my mind?_"

"I just wanted to see how much you were projecting," Charles said absently. He did move away from her mind, though, and instead checked on the other members of their study group.

Alex frowned. "Professor X, are you in my head?"

Raven hit Charles on the shoulder. Charles laughed, but withdrew into his own head. "Sorry."

"I don't know what this has to do with him, but it does somehow, and you're going to tell me," Raven told him in her You're My Big Brother And I Know What's Best For You voice.

"Do you mean Lehnsherr?" asked Hank, who was somehow part of the group again. Charles wasn't exactly sure when that had happened.

"Yes," said Raven at the same moment that Charles said, "No."

"He on your mind?" Angel asked with a smirk, gesturing to Charles's thumb. Charles blushed and stopped biting it.

"Why were you trying to get in our heads?" asked Raven.

"It was an experiment."

"Not a valid answer."

Charles shrugged. "I've known you all for a while, so I wanted to see how much of your thoughts I could see without actually entering your minds."

"Why?" asked Sean.

"Well, after I become comfortable enough with people, my telepathy sort of . . . hones in on them, and it takes less effort to read their thoughts. For example, I could pick Raven immediately out of a crowd."

"And you can already do that with Lehnsherr," said Raven flatly.

"Not exactly," Charles said evasively. "I haven't had any reason to try _that _with him . . ."

"You picked up on him pretty easily when we went looking for him," Raven accused.

"I was looking for him! And at this point I've spent a lot of time in his head, alright?"

"More time than you've spent in Sean's or Darwin's? Don't you think _maaaybe_ there's something emotional in this?" asked Raven.

"Inconclusive data," retorted Charles, who tried to hide behind his advanced molecular biology textbook. Raven threw up her hands in despair and went back to studying for her criminal law test.

* * *

Erik finished every single one of the videos by late Tuesday night, even the one from that morning. Charles's commentary on the conference had very carefully not revolved around any one of the speakers, and it had certainly not been any kinder to Erik's points than usual, which Erik appreciated. After Charles very carefully said, "Mr. Lehnsherr" at one point in the commentary like he wanted to call him Erik, Erik found himself smiling. Erik sat in his darkening hotel room for a long time after he finished the last video, just staring into the distance. Finally, he picked up his phone and dialed the number Charles had firmly engraved in his mind.

"What do you say to that dinner tomorrow night?" Erik asked gruffly.

"What? Really? Well, I – of course! Will you be up here?"

"I'll manage," Erik told him. It would be late when he got there, though; Oxford wasn't exactly close by. "Would you like to eat at your place?"

There was a silence on the other end of the phone so complete that Erik was pretty sure Charles had covered his mouth to keep from breathing into the phone. "Sure," came Charles's strangled answer after a moment. "What would you like me to make?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll cook."

There was a small noise that sounded a bit like a cat dying. Erik wondered if he had said the wrong thing. "What time?"

"I'll call you."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, Charles," Erik said, and hung up before Charles could reply. He lay back on his bed and looked at the ceiling. Erik generally wasn't one for spontaneity. However, in this, as in apparently so many other things, he could make an exception for Charles.

* * *

_Author's note: _Thanks to Douglas for suggesting that Erik watch Charles's videos without telling him!


	6. Chapter 6: The Problem With Ducklings

_Author's note:_ Happy Tuesday! :D

* * *

_Chapter 6: The Problem with Ducklings_

Charles only smoothed his hair down about ten times before he decided that he was as presentable as he was going to get. "You've done this before," he muttered to himself. "You're a telepath for goodness's sake. It's not like you won't be able to tell if he's not having a good time." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Erik, Erik, Erik, _his mind was saying over and over again. Erik had called ahead to let Charles know that he wouldn't be over until almost eight. Charles wasn't sure he was going to be able to hold himself together until then.

After Erik had called the night before, Charles had spent approximately twenty minutes pacing in his flat with all the lights on. The ducklings had found this very confusing, though they were used to his flat by now and didn't feel the need to shadow his every step. When Charles hadn't been able to take it anymore, he had called Raven.

"Erik is having dinner at my place tomorrow night," he had blurted out instead of a greeting.

Raven had burst out laughing. "No way."

"Yes! And he said he's going to cook, but I can't let him do that! I don't know what he's thinking. Are we a thing now? Is this a thing?"

"You're a telepath, you'll figure it out."

"But–"

"Have fun having a love life," Raven had said, and with that helpful piece of advice, had hung up.

So here Charles was, remembering the last time he hadn't been living in the world of one night stands, and thinking of all the ways that this could go horribly, horribly wrong. He groaned and resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. Maybe Raven was right; he was seriously out of practice.

He felt Erik arrive on the street outside his flat and slowly, slowly, walk towards it. Charles perked up. He caught pieces of Erik's thoughts – long day, relief to finally be here, _Charles_. Charles smiled and sent a warm greeting without even thinking about it. He felt Erik's surprise, and then a tentative, _I'm here. _

_I know, _thought Charles, and went to open the door.

* * *

Erik was surprised to feel Charles brush against his mind when he pulled up outside his flat. It didn't feel like he was intruding, though, and it was only a brief touch. Still, Erik felt a little anxious; he had picked up some groceries on the way, and he hoped that Charles would like at least one of the things he was thinking of making.

Charles opened the door with a brilliant grin that matched the happiness he had projected into Erik's head. "Hello! How are you? How was the conference? Come in! Oh gosh, you bought groceries? Here, let me take one of those."

"Thanks," Erik said, settling with the answer to the easiest of Charles's greetings. The ducklings had come to greet him as well, apparently, and they seemed more interested in Erik than Charles in the safety of their flat. "Hello," he said to them, careful not to step on them as he followed Charles inside. Charles's flat was . . . a bit messier than Erik had been expecting. Every available surface aside from the floor was covered with books and papers. They reached the kitchen and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least this area seemed to be somewhat orderly.

Charles put the paper bag he was carrying on the counter and looked through it. "How are you? I'm dying to hear what you think about the conference."

"I've been well." Erik set the other bag down next to Charles. "It's fine. I don't think much will come of it."

"Wow, you bought a lot of groceries." Charles looked up earnestly. "Do you have the receipt? I can pay you back half."

Erik shook his head. "Not necessary. I enjoy cooking. Think of this as giving me a chance to do so." He smiled at Charles and began unpacking the ingredients onto the counter. "Do you have a frying pan?"

"Of course." Charles fetched it out of a cabinet and put it on the stove.

Erik pulled out the potatoes and began to scrub them in the sink. "I hope this will be to your taste."

Charles looked at the potatoes in surprise. He saw what Erik was intending to make with them and his mouth watered. "Latkas? Oh, yes, please. What can I do to help?"

Erik smiled and floated a knife over to him. "Chop the carrots."

"Why don't you think anything will come of the conference? We've never hosted such a big event before. I think it's wonderful."

"Too many people with too many opinions and not enough information," Erik grumbled. "I had someone ask me if I would be willing to become the face of a toothpaste company if it funded the politicians who personally ensured that mutants have to register with the government before they can get jobs."

Charles laughed. It was a nice sound. "I saw that. I wondered if they even knew who you were."

Erik sighed and shook his head. He hunted out a large saucepan with his power and put some water on to boil. "I almost don't know why I bother."

"At least you're talking about it, my friend. Hopefully more people will take interest in the issue."

"That's true." They were quiet for a while as they worked, Erik occasionally giving Charles instruction or asking where something was. Charles started chopping the onion, and Erik could feel the slice of the blade as a constant hum in the back of his mind. He also felt the instant the blade slipped.

"Careful," Erik snapped. He had stopped the blade in time to keep it from cutting Charles, but he knew it had been a close thing. He went over to Charles's side and ignored the way Charles was looking at him with wide eyes. "You're cutting it wrong. If you hold it like that, you're going to hurt yourself." He took the onion from Charles and the knife from where it was floating in the air and demonstrated. "See?" He looked up to find Charles still staring at him. "What?" he demanded, still irritated with himself for letting Charles be so careless.

"How did you know to stop the knife?"

Erik frowned. "It's made of metal," he said very patiently.

"Yes, but–" Charles saw the look Erik was giving him and chuckled. "You really think I'm silly, don't you? It's just, for a moment there I thought you had discovered some latent telepathic powers, or that I was projecting . . ." Charles shook his head. "I should be thanking you. So thank you."

Erik looked deep into Charles's eyes for a moment, as though wondering whether Charles understood. "I can feel every piece of metal you touch," he said, his voice low. "I can feel your pulse through the wristband of your watch. I know when you pick up a pan, how you turned the door handle. I can count the silverware in your drawer." Erik leaned in closer. "I may not be able to read your mind, but I can read almost everything you do."

Charles held his breath. _Sex on the counter would be excellent right about now, _his mind helpfully supplied, and Charles tried to push the thought down. While he didn't object to the idea in theory, from a practical standpoint it wasn't sanitary and it would ruin dinner. Judging from the way Erik was now breathing in double-time, he was thinking the same thing – or Charles was projecting. Oops.

Charles cleared his throat and looked back at the cutting board. "I'll keep that in mind, then," he said in a strained voice, and struggled to lock down his shields.

Erik coughed slightly. "Right," he said, and turned back to the stove.

* * *

When dinner was finally served, Erik wasn't sure how he had ever been worried that Charles wouldn't enjoy it. Charles had barely finished the first bite before his eyes went wide with surprise. "Erik, this is so good! How did you learn to cook like this?"

"My mother."

Charles opened his mouth to say, _"But you were so young," _and then decided against it. After a moment, Erik continued.

"We made latkas together every Hanukkah. That is where I got my love of cooking, though I've since expanded my repertoire." He smiled slightly, and Charles saw the faint image of a family sitting around a table by candlelight, laughing.

Charles put his hand on Erik's where it rested on the table. "That's lovely."

Erik blinked. "Thank you."

Charles smiled and removed his hand. He sampled something else on his plate and _moaned._ Erik nearly dropped his fork. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Charles mumbled around the mouthful. "This is _divine." _

Erik cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his blood was rising in response to that sound. "It's fine."

"Mmm! This too! I haven't eaten this well in ages!"

Erik fervently hoped that Charles was distracted enough by the food that he wouldn't pick up on any of Erik's thoughts. Dinner was not an appropriate time for this. Charles got a bit of sauce on one of his fingers and instead of wiping it discretely on a napkin like a normal person, licked it off. Erik stared intently at his food. _Shit, Charles. _

"Hmm?" Charles licked his lips. Erik watched the movement, and then his eyes flicked up to meet Charles's gaze. Their eyes locked. Charles blinked. "Oh, for goodness' sake," Charles sighed, and leaned across the table enough to drag Erik into a kiss by the front of his shirt.

"Mmhmm," said Erik. It started out as a protest but ending up being rather appreciative. Charles felt _good. _He leaned into the kiss and Charles said something in his head that sounded a bit like, _Finally. _

They parted slowly, their eyes trained on each other. Charles smirked. "Hello."

"Hello," Erik replied dumbly. That wasn't quite how he had expected it to happen, but now that it had . . . He arched an eyebrow. So Charles hadn't just been thinking about the food, either. His look of surprise turned into a slow grin. Yes, "finally" was just about right.

Charles blushed a little. "I'm sorry, I interrupted your lovely dinner. Perhaps after . . . ?"

"It'll keep," Erik replied, and stood up. He was nearly done anyway. "Leftovers."

"True," said Charles, his eyes following Erik as he walked around the table and hooked a finger under Charles's chin. Erik leaned over and kissed him soundly. Charles's eyes closed and he smiled into the kiss. Without a word, he stood as Erik leaned back, and maneuvered them away from the table. Erik nibbled on Charles's lower lip, and Charles made an odd gasping noise that made Erik's skin tingle. He groaned quietly, just enough to let Charles know that he was enjoying himself, and pulled Charles closer. Erik felt Charles settling against his mind as he did sometimes, not intruding, but close enough that Erik could feel him radiating contentment. He hummed and broke the kiss.

"Can you tell what I'm thinking?"

"I can tell you're aroused," Charles said with a smirk, and pressed up against Erik to prove his point. "But no, not really. If you wanted me to, though . . . let's just say that my mutation is an advantage in this sort of situation all by itself." Charles looked immensely pleased with himself.

"Really."

"Are you familiar with the phrase 'mind-blowing sex' ?"

Erik's vision nearly went white. "Ah," said Erik, and pinned Charles against the wall.

Charles wrapped his arms around Erik's neck and kissed him wholeheartedly. This was so much better than Erik had expected. Charles was a very, _very _good kisser. There seemed to be something pecking at Erik's ankle, though, and it was being very persistent. After a moment, Erik broke away with a noise of annoyance. "Er . . ." He looked down pointedly. The ducklings cheeped happily.

"Oh," Charles said. There was a moment of silence as he contemplated the problem. "Well, don't mind them. I'm sure they wouldn't mind some light snogging." Erik raised his eyebrows at Charles but smiled and kissed him again anyway.

They ended up on the couch, and the ducklings proved determined to complicate things. Erik was almost able to get Charles shirtless before the ducklings figured out how to get up onto the couch and tried to join them. "You know, I don't think they want this to work," Erik said when it became clear that they couldn't move much without putting the ducklings in danger of being crushed.

"They're just overly enthusiastic," Charles replied. "But it is a bit of a problem, yes. I could put them back in their box, but they don't like it very much." Erik raised an eyebrow. "They sort of throw themselves against the walls," Charles clarified, and it was clear from his expression that it wasn't really an option.

Erik sighed. He put a hand on the back of Charles's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "This is fine."

Several minutes later, however, it was clear that it wasn't. Erik sighed, his breath ruffling Charles's hair. Charles gave up and flopped down on Erik. He pressed his ear to Erik's chest and looked at the ducklings. "You're making this very difficult," he told them. They cuddled closer to him at the sound of his voice. Charles, naturally of the scientific mind, saw the opportunity for an experiment. "Erik, talk to them."

"About what?" Erik mumbled into his hair. He seemed to think that Charles smelled nice. Charles wasn't complaining.

"Anything."

Erik turned his head to look at the ducklings. He put out a hand and one of them inspected it. "You are a duckling. In German we say _Entein. _You are all ducklings, _Entenküken. Sie sind niedlich." _The ducklings on the floor waddled closer to him, and several on the couch jumped down onto Charles's back. They were all looking at Erik attentively. "You are cute," he translated reluctantly.

Charles laughed into Erik's skin. "I'm not sure they can learn German."

"Hmm."

Charles heard the embarrassment in Erik's tone and smiled at him. "That was perfect though, thank you. They seem to like your voice."

"Maybe they just like voices in general."

"I think they recognize yours, though. That's good."

"Is it?"

"It is if you're going to be hanging around here a bit." Charles looked up hopefully. "You are, aren't you?"

Erik grinned and ruffled his hair. "I think that can be arranged." He glanced at the clock, which showed that it was getting late. "I should probably be going, though."

"I see." Charles sighed disappointedly, but after another minute, got off Erik and let him sit up. Charles watched intently as Erik did his belt back up. The ducklings tried to help and Charles had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the look Erik gave them.

Erik stood and helped Charles clean up dinner. When they were done, Erik smiled at the ducklings and pulled on his coat.

"Have fun at the conference."

"I will." Erik moved close to Charles and gave him a long, lingering kiss goodbye.

"Thank you for dinner," Charles said breathlessly.

Erik kissed him again as a silent _You're welcome _and _Goodbye _rolled into one, and left with a smile. Long after Charles had closed the door, he sat on his couch, smiling as he followed Erik's mind for as long as he was able.

* * *

Erik was barely able to sit through the conference the next day. It was hard to believe that the planners had managed to drag it out for a full week, and on the second to last day, Erik was rapidly losing interested. He wondered if Charles had a lot of studying to do. He hoped not.

Erik came back that night without the pretext of dinner. Charles's lips were on his the moment he came through the door.

"Bedroom?" Erik asked huskily ten minutes later.

"Yes," said Charles. He smoothed down his hair, which was hopelessly ruffled. There were two spots of pink high on his cheekbones that didn't seem to be going away. He looked adorable. "Let me just – you wait here."

Erik didn't, of course, but followed him into the bedroom, shedding his shoes and socks along the way. The ducklings trailed behind him. Erik and the ducklings looked curiously into the bedroom, where Charles was gathering up a large cardboard box. "Their bed," he explained, and carried it past Erik and into the living room. The ducklings immediately gathered around Charles, who put them one by one into the box. "It's alright," he murmured to them. "It's bedtime now. See? Erik, would you turn off the lights?"

Erik barely glanced at the light switches, and they all turned off. He quickly flicked on the lamp in the bedroom to keep them from being in total darkness.

"There," Charles told the ducklings. "It's dark now. Go to sleep. Shhh." The ducklings gathered against the side of the box, some of them even trying to jump out and get to Charles. Slowly, though, they calmed down, and were eventually quiet enough that Charles stood up. He ushered Erik into the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind them.

"You take good care of your children."

Charles looked at up at Erik with a smile as Erik lazily put his hands on Charles's waist. "I try. I worry, though. Do you know that the mother teaches them how to fly? I should have had them imprint on Angel, but she flies differently, so that probably wouldn't be helpful anyway." He sighed. "I suppose I could find a mutant with wings, because I'm sure that mutation has come along at some point –"

Erik kissed him and Charles stopped talking. "Stop worrying." Then Erik picked him up and threw him onto the bed.

Charles laughed as Erik crawled over him. "Alright. Just for now."

"Mhmm," said Erik, and proceeded to show Charles just what better things he had to think about.

* * *

"I must warn you," Charles said, leaning back enough to look at Erik properly once they had both been divested of most of their clothes, "that I have this part down."

"Hmm," said Erik with a smile, raising a hand to stroke the line of Charles's jaw. "Well, I like this part."

"It's the other bits I have trouble with."

"The other bits."

"Yes." Charles waved a hand. "You know, the after bits."

"Cooking?" Erik placed a kiss to his shoulder.

"No, no." Charles paused and looked at Erik. "Does it seem like I'm bad at cooking?"

"Hmm," said Erik noncommittally, and pulled Charles closer. "You're good at kissing."

"Thank you," Charles said, preening, and decided to let the cooking comment slide.

"Charles," said Erik slowly, and Charles sat back a little. It was hard to finally put into words something he had been thinking about for the past few days, but he had put it off, and he had to know. "Why did you really write me that letter?" Charles went very still and very quiet. Erik brushed some of Charles's hair out of his face. Erik knew how people worked, and he knew that Charles didn't want to tell him, for whatever reason. It suddenly struck him that he had something to offer Charles. Erik didn't like making deals, but . . . "If I let you inside of my mind, will you tell me why you really wanted to meet me?"

Charles visibly started. "Erik–"

"I still don't know you that well," Erik interrupted quietly, "but I'd like to."

Charles shook his head. "No. No, it's not fair."

Erik's face went hard. "I don't have much else to give you."

"No." Charles sighed and buried his head in the crook of Erik's neck. He lay flush against Erik, and Erik put a hand gently on his hip. "It's not that," Charles mumbled into his skin. "You deserve to know why I met you for free. It's just . . ."

"If you don't want to tell me, I understand."

Charles pulled his head up enough to look Erik in the eye. He brushed against Erik's mind, just enough to project without seeing. _I'm serious. _

"So am I. I understand what it's like to need to keep secrets, Charles."

Charles nearly shivered. His name sounded like rich chocolate the way it rolled off Erik's tongue. "I will tell you one day, my friend. I promise."

Erik pulled Charles back down to him and kissed him. One day was good enough.

* * *

Charles woke in the middle of the night with the memory of a nightmare on the edge of his mind. It took him a moment to realize it was Erik's. He rolled over and saw Erik turned toward him, his forehead creased and fear leaking out of him at a steady pace. Charles pressed a hand to the side of Erik's face and sent him soothing thoughts, _shhh no dreams, _picking up on pieces of Erik's dream as he did so. There was fire, ashes, fear. Slowly, the images faded away and the lines smoothed out of Erik's face. He was in a deep, dreamless sleep now. _Good, _thought Charles, but he didn't move away just yet. His hand was still pressed against the side of Erik's face, holding him there, and Charles looked at that nose, that mouth, the lines of his eyelids. He was beautiful, Charles thought, wonderful and everything he had never consciously known he wanted. He rubbed a circle with his thumb on Erik's jaw and thought of the first time he had seen Erik, and bright and faraway flame in a landscape of darkness.

There was no chance for Charles to fall asleep right now, but there was still a part of him that hadn't quite woken up yet and wasn't aware that this was the conscious, waking world. Everything seemed much simpler. So Charles closed his eyes and entered Erik's mind.

It was lovely. Even in sleep, his waking thoughts were all recorded so precisely. They were like like cogs that ticked away when Charles prodded them, turning and moving Charles along the complicated path that was Erik's thought process. Politics – the conference – needed to buy groceries when he got home – the joy of driving his own car. Charles sank deeper, past Erik's thoughts of Charles himself, into his more unconscious thoughts. The hum of metal, the way it sang when he called to it. Erik's desire to see changes made in the world because of his own sacrifices. Anger. Pain. _Schmidt. _

Charles frowned. He had never heard Erik mention a Schmidt before. He focused on the memory. There was a face with greying hair, an unpleasant smile, sharp eyes. A face that never changed. And hatred.

Below that, Erik's deep sadness at the loss of his parents, happy memories of their time together, and the distant blur of a childhood he hardly ever thought about.

Charles withdrew from his mind and opened his eyes. Erik was still breathing steadily beside him. Charles traced a frown line in his forehead that never truly went away. _Oh Erik, _he thought. _Will you let me help you? _He lay back down next to Erik and watched him until he fell back asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Erik was up before Charles – and judging by the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen, long before. Charles got out of bed and padded into the kitchen, where he found the ducklings watching Erik make an omelette. Charles walked up behind Erik and hugged him. "Hello, love," he said into the fabric of Erik's turtleneck.

"Good morning," Erik said, and Charles could tell he was smiling. "I have to leave soon, but I thought I'd make you breakfast before I did."

"Okay." Charles released him and watched him finish up the omelette. Erik put half onto a paper plate for himself to take with him, and the other half onto a plate for Charles.

Erik kissed Charles on the forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow.

Charles pecked him on the lips. "Have a good last day." Erik smiled and left.

Raven arrived ten minutes later to ask Charles a question before her first class of the day. She took one look at the omelette Charles was halfway through and grinned. "Good night last night?"

"Shut up, Raven," he said, and only let her have one bite.

* * *

That afternoon, Charles happened to be watching the conference live on his computer while he wrote a lab report, as he had been for the past week. "And now, for our final guest speaker," said the announcer. "Sebastian Shaw!" Charles paused in his writing to watch curiously as the video feed showed a man with greying hair waving to the crowd. Of course Charles had heard of Shaw; he was well-known mostly for giving money to pro-mutant groups, but he was a political activist in his own right. The camera zoomed in and Charles's jaw dropped. It was Schmidt, from Erik's memories. Before Charles could process this, the camera switched back to the panelists so show them all smiling and clapping.

Erik was doing neither.

Charles stared. Erik's face was perfectly blank, as though someone had just hit him over the head with a brick. In an instant, his jaw clenched and Charles saw such hatred in his eyes he felt his stomach drop. Charles cursed himself for not paying more attention to Erik's memories when he had been in Erik's mind. He didn't really know what this man had done to Erik, but whatever it was, Erik clearly still carried the pain of it with him.

Charles leaned forward, closed his eyes, and pressed his fingers to his temple. London was so very, very far away, but in Charles's mind's eye, Erik was like a beacon that shone for miles. He tracked that light, and though he could tell he was stretched almost too far, he desperately called, _ERIK?_ He opened his eyes, looking searchingly at Erik's face on the screen. A full minute or so later, hopefully due to the lag of the video and not Charles's weak thought, Erik looked startled and stared out at the crowd. An interviewer had started asking Shaw questions, and after a moment Erik looked back at Shaw with a frown.

Not knowing what else to do, Charles watched with bated breath as the interview continued. The people running the conference seemed to have entirely forgotten about the panelists and were only fielding questions for Shaw. Charles had never paid much attention to him before as his ideas were too far removed from Charles's for him to even think of finding them helpful, but now he looked intently at the screen and tried to study the man in the only way he could without his telepathy.

"I have already announced this in the States," Shaw announced, "but in what could be a leap forward for all mutants if I am elected, I am running for election as a Senator."

There was loud applause. When the camera shot included Erik, Charles saw that his face had gone white as a sheet. Charles's heart sank. He had dreamed of the day when a known mutant was elected to any public office. But if Erik hated and feared this man as much as Charles knew he did, something was very, very wrong.


	7. Chapter 7: The Ugly Duckling

_Author's note:_ I'm so sorry for the wait. The first week of school hit me like a ton of bricks, and I've been trying to catch up ever since.

* * *

_Chapter 7: The Ugly Duckling_

Erik didn't show up that night, even though Charles stayed up until past midnight. He considered calling Erik, and even held the phone in his hands, but it didn't feel quite right. He sat on his bed cross-legged with his eyes closed and tried to feel Erik, but he couldn't. Reaching all the way to London earlier that day had worn him out, and he couldn't do it again. When he talked to Raven around ten and mentioned that Erik hadn't shown up, she mentioned Cerebro, but Charles wouldn't dare. He was already feeling guilty about having breached Erik's mind without his permission twice, and this was too serious for him to risk doing it again.

When he woke up on Saturday morning and looked at the clock, he desperately wanted to fall back asleep, but it was nearing 10:30 and he had a lot of work to catch up on. He got out of bed, collected his clothes, and padded towards the shower.

The ducklings were already awake, and they followed him happily out of the bedroom. When he stepped into the shower, they followed him inside. They seemed to like getting a wet and shaking out their feathers, though Charles had to be careful not to get soap on them. He took his time washing his hair. He had to decide what to do about Erik and Shaw. He had tried to research Shaw the night before, but it had been hard to find substantial information on him, even under the name of Schmidt.

Charles stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. He was halfway through dressing when he heard the doorbell ring. "Coming!" he shouted, and quickly threw on his shirt. It couldn't be Erik, he knew it couldn't be, but he nearly slipped in his hurry to get to the door. With his heart in his throat and his telepathy firmly inside his own head, because he desperately didn't want to be disappointed, he threw open the door.

Erik stood there, looking exactly the same as he usually did. Charles stared at him. At first, he was immensely relieved, but then the terror settled in. Had he done something to Shaw?

"Can I come in?" Erik finally asked.

"Of course." Charles pushed his wet hair out of his face and held the door open. His mind tried to curl outwards toward Erik, but he firmly pulled it back into place. If Erik was upset, the last thing Charles wanted to do was make it worse. "Can I get you anything?"

Erik was frowning into the distance with his hands in his pockets. "No, thank you."

"How are you doing?" asked Charles quietly. He came close enough for Erik to touch him if he wanted to, because he knew very well how important physical comfort could be sometimes, but Erik hardly seemed to notice.

"Yesterday afternoon, were you . . . ?" Erik made a vague motion with his hand near his temple. "In the area?" he finished lamely.

"I did try to contact you, yes."

"You were watching the conference."

"There was a live feed online," Charles explained. "Do you mind if I get some breakfast?" Erik shook his head and Charles made himself a bowl of cereal, since that was about the limit of what he was willing to cook right then. Erik didn't follow him into the kitchen, and when Charles came back with his meal, he was still standing exactly where he had left him. Charles wordless sat down on the couch, and after a moment Erik sat next to him.

"Well?" Erik looked at him. "What do you think of Shaw?"

Charles spooned some cereal into his mouth and finally relaxed. Erik couldn't have done anything yet if he was asking Charles's opinion. Still, Charles had to tread carefully. "I think you dislike him quite a lot."

"I didn't ask what _I_ think of him," Erik said, and for a moment his jaw tightened in something very much like anger.

Charles sighed internally. "I know very little about him. I disagree with his politics in general." Erik frowned, but Charles headed him off before he could demand a more precise answer. "Why do you hate him, my friend?" Charles asked quietly, stirring the cereal around in the bowl. "His views are rather black and white, but he is a politician, after all."

Erik closed his eyes and shook his head. "That's not any of your business, Charles."

"It is if you're thinking of doing something highly unadvisable."

Erik's eyes snapped open and locked on Charles. It was the first time since he had arrived that Charles felt Erik was really looking at him. Erik's face was an open question, though it was clear he expected the worst answer. Charles shook his head slightly; he hadn't read Erik's mind – not about that, at least. Erik leaned forward and relaxed by a minute degree. "Why would I do that?"

Charles raised an eyebrow. "I don't need to be a telepath to put two and two together. Why don't you tell me."

Erik pulled away and ran a hand over his face. "I don't want to talk about it. Not now."

"Please, Erik," said Charles softly, and something in Erik gave way.

The night before, Erik had been angry at Shaw, angry at himself for letting Shaw go free for so long, and angry that there was very little he could _do_. It had been too much, so he had gone for a very, very long drive instead of going to see Charles. Now, though, he just wanted to lay his head in Charles's lap and not think about anything for a while.

But Charles was asking, and Erik was finding that it was very hard to deny Charles anything when he looked at him like that.

He sighed heavily. "My parents were killed when I was young," he said in a flat voice. "We still lived in Poland at the time, in Zamość. It didn't get much coverage here, but one year the government passed a law granting mutants certain rights, and there were riots." Charles nodded; he knew about it from classes on the subject and because of his own research. "My parents were human, but they wanted to support me. They joined others in keeping the rioters from destroying public places, ones that had a lot of significance . . ." He had to pause to press the heel of his hand to his eyes. Charles set aside his breakfast and rested a hand unobtrusively on his thigh. He wafted _comfort _in Erik's direction and the intense feeling of _you're safe here. _In a moment, Erik was able to continue.

"But those weren't the only two groups. Many of the mutants did not regret the fighting we had done for our rights in the past, and they saw the rioting humans as a threat. _He_ convinced a group of them to storm the Zamość Synagogue." Erik's voice wavered slightly. Charles did not need to ask who "he" was, and he was not sure if he could have asked if he had wanted to. The pain that was rolling off Erik was suffocating. "My parents were there, with other humans and mutants, all of whom only wanted to protect their heritage. They were all killed. He showed no mercy."

_It was not your fault, _Charles told him. He could not help being pulled into Erik's mind, seeing what he saw, and he was not even fully aware that he was not speaking aloud. Erik looked at him, and Charles saw his own bright blue, tear-filled eyes reflected in Erik's mind. _They made their own choice. You cannot help who you are. _

Something in Erik's face crumpled and he pulled Charles into his arms. Charles could feel Erik's hot breath on his neck. _Charles, _Erik's mind sighed, and it sounded like relief. Charles's chest hurt and there were tears in his eyes, and he wasn't sure whether they were from feeling Erik relive his past or because Erik didn't feel quite as hurt anymore. Still in Erik's mind, Charles could feel the pain fading and being replaced by the heaviness of exhaustion.

"Come here," Charles said, and Erik raised his head. His eyes were bleary and confused. Charles scooted to the far end of the couch and patted his lap. It was testament to how tired Erik was that he simply lay his head in Charles's lap without comment.

Charles ran his fingers through Erik's hair. Erik closed his eyes and hummed quietly. "I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute."

"Mm-hmm," Charles said, and a fond smile teased at his lips. He brushed the tears off his cheeks with his free hand, and wiped away the one of Erik's that had trickled down his cheek. He could feel Erik already slipping towards sleep, and it took only a light nudge to get him there entirely. In a few minutes, Erik's breathing was deep and even. Charles simply sat there for a while, carding his fingers through Erik's hair and half listening for any hint of nightmares. So Erik hadn't done anything rash – that was good. Why had he come to Charles, then? To ask for forgiveness? Comfort? To feel less guilty about letting Shaw go? He doubted that Erik even knew himself. Charles hadn't realized how terrified he had been when Erik hadn't shown up last night. With Erik here, his vague fears of seeing Erik's face on the news with "Murderer of Politician" under it in bold seemed silly.

He watched the hands on the clock move by, lost in his thoughts, and eventually decided that he had put off his work for long enough. He moved Erik's head out of his lap, careful not to wake him, and went to find the report he was supposed to be working on. He brought his laptop and a pile of books back to the couch, settled Erik's head back in his lap, and went to work.

Erik slept for several hours, and Charles was so engrossed in his studying, he barely noticed the passage of time. When he finally felt Erik rouse, it was something that only registered in the back of his mind.

Erik shifted, ducked out from under Charles's arm, and sat up. He ran a hand through his hair, stood, and disappeared into the kitchen. Charles only fully registered his presence when a sandwich was shoved under his nose a few minutes later. Charles blinked and stopped typing. He took the plate. "Thank you."

"What are you working on?" Erik sat down next to Charles and some of the ducklings jumped up onto the couch next to him. They had apparently followed Erik into the kitchen, because a few of them were still waddling out of it.

"Mutations and genome sequencing and applications to the field currently." Charles gave Erik a lopsided smile. "Sorry. It's due on Monday."

"Hmm," Erik said agreeably. He tore off a little of the bread of his sandwich and tried to feed it to the ducklings. One of them picked it up and immediately dropped it. Charles watched with amusement. Erik looked almost offended.

Charles took a bite out of his sandwich and reread his last paragraph. If he could get this much done tomorrow–

"Shaw can't win this election."

Charles stared at him. The comment had come completely out of the blue, without even an indicator from his emotional state. Charles focused his telepathy and realized that what he had interpreted as contentment was, in fact, the calm that came from having made a decision – and having absolutely no doubts about it.

Charles closed his laptop with a snap. "Erik," he said warningly.

Erik's eyes met his evenly. "This isn't up for discussion, Charles."

"Then why did you tell me?"

A slight smile played at the corner of Erik's mouth. "Why don't you just read my mind?"

Charles could feel anger building in the back of his skull despite himself. "Don't turn this into a different conversation."

Erik finished off his sandwich and stood, clearly prepared to leave. "Thank you for lunch."

_Because I definitely made it for you, _Charles thought sardonically. "Wait."

Erik turned to face him fully and raised an eyebrow, inviting him to try to stop him. His hand fidgeted at his side; he _was _uncertain, Charles realized. He had wanted confirmation, and now that he hadn't gotten it, he was going to go ahead and do something stupid anyway. There was a chance, then, that he would listen to Charles.

"I know, now, how much Shaw hurt you," Charles said clearly, and he put as much of his determination into his gaze as he could. "But it is clouding your judgement. Be reasonable. What can you do to stop him? Inform the voters, spread your story–"

A fork from the kitchen abruptly flew into Erik's hand, making Charles jump. It was silver, his mother's silver, but it bent and ran like mercury in Erik's grasp. He formed it into a perfect sphere, and then let it weave through his fingers with a flick of his wrist. It was the equivalent of a stress ball for him, Charles realized, and it took effort to tear his eyes away from the liquid metal and look at Erik's face.

"Perhaps I have not been clear enough," Erik said. "I assumed you would know this without me saying it, but I do not 'open up.' I will not 'spread my story,' as you put it, as if it is some _news report_."

"You have to convince the voters that he is not fit for office, and for that you will need proof," Charles responded heatedly. "If you don't explain anything to them, they'll think you're the bad guy. But if you present the information in the right way, bring the case to court–"

Erik snorted. "People do not want the truth. Not everyone deserves a second chance. Shaw does not deserve his. In fact," Erik flicked his wrist and watched the little ball of metal hover, "he did not deserve the first."

"I believe that everyone has the capability to make the right decision," Charles said slowly, "and that they all deserve due process of law. That does not mean that I think that what he did is justifiable, or that he should not be punished for what he did."

"But you think that everyone is justified in what they do, even if it is the murder of innocents." Erik's mind was quickly become a ball of hard, white-hot anger.

"In their _own minds, _Erik!"

"So why do you not think I'm justified?"

Charles sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was so difficult to make Erik see sense when Erik refused to even consider that he was wrong. "You are right that Shaw must not be elected."

Erik arched an eyebrow. "You say that as though you would help me." His mind cooled for a moment as curiosity replaced anger. "Would you help me slander a politician, Charles?"

"Yes," Charles said, his mind racing. "I would. If we did it my way."

"There isn't a nice way to do this." Erik closed his fist around the metal sphere. "You would't be able to take it back, or blame it all on how he was misunderstood." Still, Charles could feel a tendril of interest creeping outwards from Erik's mind.

_Make him a deal. _"If you let me help you bring down Schmidt, I will make sure he is ruined beyond repair."

Erik froze. "Where did you learn that name?" he said, his voice deadly quiet, and Charles's stomach dropped like a stone.

"I – What?" he stuttered.

"Schmidt." Erik's fist had tightened around the metal sphere, and he was _squeezing. _"I have never called him that. He no longer uses that name."

Charles wondered in a kind of terrified fascination if Erik could really make the atoms in the metal move closer together. "I must have seen it when I was researching the Poland riots."

"No, you did not, because he erased every mention of that name from every record years ago," Erik hissed. "_How dare you." _

"You're not yourself," Charles ground out.

"How dare you read my mind."

"Regardless of how I know–" Erik was swearing at him in German, but Charles plowed ahead. "I cannot let you do anything irresponsible enough to put you in jail!"

Erik gave him a murderous look and left without another word.

Charles swore. He kicked his coffee table and nearly broke his toe.

* * *

Erik remembered exactly why he had never wanted to trust Charles in the first place. He remembered the moment that he had thought that Charles, surely, would be different. He cursed himself, and he cursed Shaw, but he didn't curse Charles, because he could still very clearly the feeling of comfort and hear Charles saying, _It's alright. This is your home now. _

* * *

Charles showed up outside Raven's door two hours later. He had spent the intervening time alternately pacing and fuming, and curled up on the couch, frowning, with a bottle of bourbon. He was fairly certain he hadn't cried, though his eyes looked suspiciously red no matter how many times he washed his face, and his chest still felt like someone had cut out part of it with a poorly-sharpened knife.

Raven took one look at him and let him inside. "Oh, Charles, what's wrong? Did you – oh, honey . . ."

Her look of pure sympathy was all it took for it all to come crashing down. Charles's vision went blurry, and he was thankful that she hugged him so that she couldn't see him cry. "Erik left," he managed to say. "He walked out, after we had a fight."

"It's okay. It's all okay." She pulled just far enough away to herd him to the couch, where she sat down next to him.

Charles took a deep, shuddering breath, though the tears were still running down his cheeks. "He's such an idiot," he blurted out. "Why does it matter how I know how he feels? If he does what he wants, he'll be no better than _him, _and I'm just trying to help him! If he weren't so damn stubborn–" A sob caught in Charles's throat. "I just don't _understand _how a person who is so perfect for me can be so _wrong." _Without a word, Raven pulled him back into a hug.

What right did Erik have to tell him that he didn't know what true justice was? Wasn't Erik the ridiculously principled one?

And what the hell had happened to Erik being the perfect man, because Charles was pretty sure that he had never felt like this about anyone in his _life, _and it was _not okay _that Erik just up and left _before Charles could even tell him that. _

"His timing sucks," he mumbled into Raven's shoulder. "He's the least thoughtful person I've ever met."

Raven patted his back. "Okay, honey. If that's an invitation to start bashing him, you should tell me now, because I can't tell if you're mad at him or just want him to come back."

"Both," Charles mumbled, and hiccuped.

Raven sighed heavily. "I can't really blame you for drinking, but if you're looking for more alcohol, I'm not going to help you." Despite her tired tone, she patted his hair comfortingly. Charles nodded understandingly and pulled back. She handed him a box of tissues and he wiped off his face. She patted his leg, and Charles could see worry written plainly on her face. "You clean up and I'll make you some hot chocolate, okay?"

Charles nodded and blew his nose. After he had washed off his face (again), he curled up in one corner of the beat-up purple couch with the blanket that Raven tossed at him. He picked at a loose thread on one of the cushions. "You really should get rid of this thing."

"Not until it falls apart." Raven set the water on to boil and sat down next to Charles. "Now, tell me exactly what happened."

* * *

By the time the kids showed up, Charles was wrapped up in blankets and holding firmly onto a cup of hot chocolate. Sean was the first to peer inside Raven's room. "Professor X? Are you okay?" he asked mournfully.

Charles smiled. "Yes, Sean. What are you doing here?" Sean came inside and was closely followed by Alex, Darwin, and Angel. Charles's smile lost a little of its brilliance. "Oh. Raven texted you, I suppose."

"She didn't tell us much, though," said Alex. The kids settled themselves on the floor in front of Charles. "Just that you had a fight with Lehnsherr."

Raven beamed at them. "Who would like some hot chocolate?" The enthusiastic response sent her back to the small kitchen, though Charles had no illusions that she couldn't hear everything that was being said.

"So what happened?"

Charles considered getting Raven to kick them out, but he could tell that they were all honestly worried about him, and he was at least feeling sober again. He sighed. "I read his mind without his permission, and he didn't appreciate it when I tried to use the knowledge I had gained to change his mind about an issue that is very important to him, even though as it is he is probably going to do something that is going to end up getting him arrested."

They all looked at him mournfully. "Dude," said Sean.

"That doesn't sound good."

"Well, there's nothing to worry about," Charles told them as Raven came back with the drinks. "I'm sure we'll sort something out."

"That's what my parents said," muttered Sean.

Charles mentally kicked himself. He had forgotten about Sean's parents' divorce. "Well, this is different. Besides, it's not the end of the world if it falls through." Charles looked at his hands. "If it doesn't work, it doesn't work."

"Bullshit," said Alex. Charles winced at his language. The rest of them nodded. "Even though Lehnsherr seems like a total asshole" – more nods – "if you think he's the guy for you, you deserve him."

"And we're going to help you win him back," said Angel.

Darwin pulled a notebook and pen out of his backpack. "I've already got some ideas. Does this guy like flowers?"

Charles blinked and looked at Raven. _What have you done? _he mouthed. She just grinned.

"Really, Prof, what kind of plan have you been using to win over this guy?" asked Alex. "You did have a plan, right?"

"Not exactly . . ."

Raven perched on the armchair next to Charles. "Sure he does. Charles, why don't you tell them what you told me."

Charles took a deep breath. He was pretty sure he was going to regret this.

* * *

_Author's note: _The Zamość Synagogue is one of the few pre-WWII synagogues in Poland that survived the war.


	8. Chapter 8: Make Way For Ducklings

_Author's note: _Happy Tuesday!

* * *

_Chapter 8: Make Way For Ducklings_

_You are cordially invited to an Apology Dinner hosted by Charles Xavier (doctorate pending). The dinner will be held on the evening of Sunday, the 21__st__ of May, in the first Common Room of Pembroke College. _

_Formal attire suggested. No RSVP necessary. _

Erik seriously considered not going. The envelope was addressed to Erik Lehnsherr this time – no title, unlike the last time, but it was still far better than just _Erik. _He probably wouldn't have gone if that had been on the envelope.

As it was, he didn't go happily.

He arrived to find a table set up in a room that had been decorated to look like some sort of mockery of a romantic restaurant. Red tulle had been hung up on the walls like a garland, and there were doilies on the table. It looked tacky and not like something that would have been to Charles's taste at all, and – yes, alright, the red glitter on the floor was definitely left over from a Valentine's Day celebration. The single red rose in a vase in the center of the table was real, though, as was the worry on Charles's face. Erik ignored the decorations, as Charles clearly was, and took his seat across from Charles.

"Good evening," said Charles.

"Hello," replied Erik. He looked down at the white ceramic plate in front of him. It was empty, and there didn't seem to be a menu anywhere.

Charles waved a hand at the room in general. "The children organized this. They're getting us take-out." He looked guilty. Erik endeavored to not feel bad for him.

Erik placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. He looked at Charles, waiting. Charles raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly not willing to be intimidated by Erik. "I would like to apologize for what I did," Charles said. "It was wrong of me to read your mind without your permission –"

"When I had forbade it."

"When you had forbade it," Charles amended, "but having done so, I stand by what I said."

Erik huffed out a breath. "I also stand by what I said . . . except for when I dismissed you as naive." Charles's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. Erik arched an eyebrow. "Clearly, you knew exactly what you were doing."

Charles's lips tightened. "As did you, my friend. I am taking responsibility for my actions; I'd appreciate it if you'd do the same."

Erik ignored the expression of endearment. Charles thought that apologizing was taking responsibility for what he had done? If he really did not regret it in the slightest, he would accept what Erik did because of it and not try to convince Erik that he had somehow been justified –

"I can still feel regret for what I did while accepting the consequences," Charles said sharply. Erik glared at him, prepared to snarl something about how if Charles really couldn't control himself, he was leaving, when Charles slammed a hand down on the table and snapped, _"You are yelling in my head!" _

Erik blinked. He had never seen Charles get angry like that before. Charles sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temple with two fingers. "Forgive me," he muttered, "but you're making it rather difficult to concentrate." Erik barely had time to wonder if Charles really had that hard of a time blocking out his thoughts when Charles suddenly opened his eyes and gave Erik a look of pure apology. Erik frowned at him and automatically sent him a _?, _but before Charles could respond, the door swung open and Angel appeared, carrying a silver platter.

"Food!" she said with a grin, and served them each a piece of cheese pizza.

Erik looked at his pizza blankly as Sean waltzed into the room with a plate of breadsticks, followed by Alex carrying a jug of ice water. Darwin brought up the rear with glasses, which they had apparently forgotten to put on the table. Charles winced as the glasses, clearly meant for red wine, were filled with water. All four of them were dressed in white dress shirts and vests of varying colors. Sean set down the plate of breadsticks, Angel wedged the platter of pizza in between the other plates on the small table, and they all paraded out of the room.

Charles looked at Erik remorsefully. "I am so sorry," he mouthed.

Erik looked at him, the pizza, and then burst out laughing. "I have to say," he said after he had control of himself, wiping the corners of his eyes discretely, "that this is not exactly what I was expecting."

Charles chuckled. "I tried to talk them out of it, but they insisted it would be cheaper."

Erik couldn't avoid letting out a last snort of laughter. "I'm sure it was." He looked up to find Charles smiling fondly at him. Erik immediately forced his features into a more serious expression, and Charles's smile faded. Charles cleared his throat awkwardly and looked down at his plate. He picked up his knife and fork and dubiously attempted to eat his pizza as though it were an expensive steak.

They ate for a moment in silence. "You know," Charles said, very carefully not looking at Erik, "If you weren't being such an idiot about this whole thing, you do realize that I had offered to tell you why I first wanted to meet you _and _that I was going to help you ruin Shaw's name in a very public manner?"

Erik stared at him. Charles had his mouth set mulishly and was very carefully dissecting his pizza. _I wish we weren't fighting, _Erik suddenly thought, and he realized too late that it had been very clear.

Charles looked up at him and for an instant, Erik found himself lost in those clear blue eyes. _Me too, my friend._

"Let's not, then."

Charles's smile was bright enough to light up the entire room.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you, though."

Charles shook his head, still smiling. "I know."

It seemed like it would be best to get the easier thing out of the way first. Erik raised an eyebrow slightly. "Well? Why don't you tell me why you sent me that first letter."

Charles froze and his smile dropped from his face. Erik looked at him with bewilderment. He had decided that it probably had something to do with his work and that Charles had used Cerebro to find him as a dare. Maybe Charles had developed a bit of a crush on him after reading enough of his papers, blah blah. But Charles didn't look just embarrassed. He looked downright terrified.

Charles cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. He was silent for a long moment as he fidgeted. "Alright," he said finally, and the blue eyes that met Erik's were serious and sincere. "Would you mind if I, well . . . ?" He gestured vaguely, though Erik got the impression it was supposed to be towards his temple. "I'd like to . . . show you why I wanted to meet you."

Erik nodded briefly before he could change his mind. Charles raised his fingers to his temple and met Erik's gaze. Erik felt Charles settle into his mind again, but this time it was less like Charles was sitting in a corner of his mind and more like he was _everywhere_. It was a very strange feeling, and he could feel Charles asking him to _relax _without words. _This is rather intimate, and I'm sorry, _Charles told him, and then Charles closed his eyes.

Erik could see the English countryside. He couldn't really see it, though; he could _feel _the people who lived on it. They were like little points of light, some brighter than others, and as he moved forward he could tell which ones were asleep and which ones were awake. He picked up bits of information he didn't fully understand – fragments of dreams, names, faces he didn't recognize. Charles – he _was_ Charles – dismissed most of them and moved on.

There was a mind up ahead that was brighter than any he'd seen before. Charles moved closer, curious, and the bright light turned out to be brilliant. He was overwhelmed with emotions and trains of thought. It was _fascinating; _he had never met anyone like this person. Thousands upon thousands of mind, all nearly the same, only sometimes one that stood out; and even then, never one quite like this . . . Erik didn't know how Charles could possibly keep track of everything, because he was slowly aware that some of those emotions belonged to Charles, and the whole experience had a second layer to it that was Charles's memories, Charles with people he loved –

_Alone, _screamed the mind, and something in Charles called back.

_I didn't even realize I was alone until then, _Charles thought. _I have Raven, I have friends, but I have no one who understands me completely and I think that you –_

It suddenly wasn't in nighttime anymore, they were in Maidenhead and Oxford all at once, and the same mind was _there. _Erik's face looked back at Charles with a slight frown, and Charles wanted to say everything to him he couldn't with words (_You're not alone, I'm here, I _**_know _**_you), _but he couldn't because Erik wouldn't understand.

Erik was suddenly yanked out of the memories and back into reality. He was still overwhelmed by what he had felt – what Charles had felt – what _Erik _felt. He gasped in a breath and he realized he was crying. He wiped his eyes hastily.

_You're not alone, _Charles had thought in his mind. _You're not alone. _

When Erik looked up, he saw that Charles had his chin in his hand and he was biting his lip. He was looking straight at Erik, and he looked like he was on the verge of tears himself. "I'm sorry," said Charles when they were both under control. "It was – it was unfair to invite you to Oxford under a pretense, and pretend that I'd never met you. I know I already told you part of it, but – I _wanted_ to get to know you. I did know you better than I let on, and . . . " Charles swallowed. "It's hard to pretend otherwise. But I think . . ." He covered his own mouth with his hand. There was a choked noise, almost a sob, and Erik realized it was him.

_I think that if I had you, I'd never feel alone again. _

"Anyway," Charles coughed out, pretending not to notice that they were both still crying, "I suppose I would have told you eventually, I just wasn't expecting to tell you so soon–"

Erik lunged across the table and pulled Charles into a fierce kiss. "Mmph!" said Charles, but his hands ended up in Erik's hair and his mouth moved against Erik's own. He tasted like salt and tomato sauce. Erik didn't think he'd ever tasted anything better.

Erik broke off the kiss and looked into Charles's eyes, his hand still on the back of Charles's neck. "Don't ever read my mind without my permission again," he growled.

Charles nodded. Erik yanked him back into another kiss. _I won't, love, _he said, and Erik hoped that this time he could believe him.

* * *

Despite their seemingly cavalier attitude about the dinner, Raven and the rest had put their utmost into preparing for it. (They had tried to cook a three-course meal, they really had, but somehow everything had ended up burnt or smelling strangely.) They all loved Charles, whether they told him or not, and they wanted this to work.

"I do not have a plan," Charles had told them the night before as he sat on Raven's purple couch. He had looked down at his hands as he fidgeted with them. "But I do know that I can be honest with him. It's high time I told him everything about the night – the first time I met him." He sighed and looked at them. "Especially since I started this whole thing by lying and breaking into a facility illegally." He had raised an eyebrow at them accusingly. He hadn't been able to hide a slight smile, though, and he had looked so much like his normal self for once that Angel had broke into a grin. She had patted his knee.

"You'll do okay, Prof," she had said. "I saw the way he looked at you. There's no way he can resist that smile of yours."

That really had made Charles smile, and after that, the whole group had felt their spirits lift.

It wasn't surprising, then, that they stood in the hallway outside and listened to every minute of Erik and Charles's conversation. They all had their ears pressed against the door and listened with baited breath as Charles told Erik that he was going to finally show him what he had really seen when he had used Cerebro.

"What's happening?" Sean whispered after a few seconds of dead silence.

"Nothing," Angel replied, her eye pressed to the crack of the door where it met the doorframe.

"Shhh," Raven told them. She gestured to her temple with two fingers and rolled her eyes. Alex looked at her like she was crazy.

"Mind-reading," Hank said too loudly. Everyone shushed him.

"I'm sorry," Charles said breathlessly, and Angel waved her hand wildly for them all to be quiet. Raven managed to get to a place where she could see, and though the rest of them tried to get a space, the two girls shoved them away.

Angel let out a quiet whistle a moment later. Raven made an odd strangled noise, grabbed Angel by the back of her vest, and ushered them out of the room. They all complained and protested, but Raven was having none of it. She finally got them out of the hallway and into another room. She leaned against the door and dragged a hand down her face. "I am _not_ letting you watch my brother and his boyfriend make out over the remains of their dinner."

"Eww," said Sean. Angel snickered. Hank sighed and plopped into a chair.

"You're joking, right?" said Alex.

Raven groaned. "I wish I was."

Angel dusted herself off and held out her hand with a smirk. "I think this means a job well-done, don't you?" she said. The rest of them stood in a circle one by one and layered their hands on top of hers.

Raven paused a moment. "To true love," she said finally. The rest of them nodded seriously.

"Two, one – _To true love!" _They whooped and yelled in excitement. Raven laughed. _Congratulations, Charles, _she thought as she looked fondly at the rest of them giving each other high-fives. _I got you this far, so it's up to you to do the rest. _

She thought she heard an amused chuckle in the back of her mind.

* * *

The next day, Charles and Erik were standing in St James Park in London. They were both looking towards the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre, where they knew the cameras of at least ten television news networks were trained on Sebastian Shaw.

"Do you really think this will work?" Erik asked Charles.

"Yes," said Charles. "I know you are capable of this."

"Adding a number to your phone is very different from controlling every computer and television in the city." Erik's tone was dismissive, but his face was drawn and pale. He was nervous.

Charles sent him a soothing thought. "Size doesn't matter," he said bluntly. "This is purely about focus." He raised two fingers to hover near his temple. "Are you ready?"

Erik took a deep breath. "Yes." Charles entered his mind.

_Focus, _Charles told him. _SHAW_, Erik screamed back, but Charles smoothed that away. _Not on the anger and the pain. I have always thought that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity. _Charles went deep into Erik's memories, and Erik let him. He found Erik's fondest memories, and pulled one to the surface of when Erik's parents had been alive. There was another memory there, too; one of Charles's smile.

Erik reached out and found all the technology that was running in the city. He narrowed his focus to the televisions and everything with a screen and an internet connection. _Yes, _Charles told him, and he very carefully directed every one of those devices to show the coverage of the currently ongoing interview with Sebastian Shaw.

* * *

Shaw had, of course, chosen the best venue money could buy. He had invited every press representative he could think of, and told them to invite their friends. The massive conference room was packed, and cameras flashed constantly. Every move of his was recorded by a dozen video cameras. If there was one thing Shaw knew how to do, it was work a room.

Shaw sat on the small stage and smiled into the cameras as he answered their questions. His combination assistant-bodyguard Azazel stood nearby. No one had tried to kill him recently, but he felt he could never be too safe.

The room was crowded enough that Shaw barely noticed when the door opened in the back and someone slipped inside. He did notice, though, when they forced their way to the front of the crowd and eagerly waved their hand, trying to get their question answered. The man had brown hair, blue eyes, and an infectious smile. _Probably a journalist trying to get his first big story, _Shaw thought with a smile, and he decided to take pity on the poor man. "How about you in the blue cardigan," he said.

The man looked immensely pleased. He waited, and the room quieted for him surprisingly fast. "What do you have to say about your involvement in the Poland Riots?" he asked brightly.

Shaw froze. The man smiled innocently at him. Azazel stepped forward to a microphone. "Mr. Shaw will not take unrelated questions," he said evenly.

"I think it's very related," said an unfamiliar voice from offstage, and a man who must have been standing in the wings walked out onto the stage. He smiled at Shaw and twitched his fingers, drawing an extra metal chair over to him. "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

"Erik?" said Shaw, standing in shock. The room had gone dead silent. Shaw looked around and laughed nervously. Everyone was staring at them. "Security, get this man out of here," he called. When nothing happened, he turned around and glared at Azazel. "Azazel!"

Azazel gave him a strangely thoughtful look. After a moment, he crossed his arms as though he had decided that he was going to wait this one out.

Erik leaned back in his chair. "Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair Shaw had just vacated. "I insist." There was something hard in his tone and his eyes glittered in the stage's lighting. He looked completely at ease on the stage as though this press conference was for him, not Shaw.

Shaw looked out at the crowd of reporters. They were all looking at him intently as though someone had told them silently that this was very important and that they should all pay attention. Shaw's eyes locked on the man who had asked the question, the one with the innocent blue eyes. His mouth was curved in a satisfied smile. _Why don't you sit down, _his voice said in Shaw's head, and Shaw sank slowly back into his seat.

Erik grinned, showing all his teeth. "I am so interested to hear what you have to say about the Poland riots, Mr. Shaw."

Shaw straightened his tie and composed himself. He smiled charmingly at Erik. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you do."

_Please don't be difficult, _the other man told him in his head. _All the televisions and computer screens in the London area that were turned on five minutes ago are currently displaying this interview, and all the major websites have just put this on their front page. At this point, Mr. Shaw, it really doesn't matter what you say. _

Shaw wiped his palms nervously on his suit trousers, though he kept his smile plastered on his face. "I was in Poland during the riots," he admitted, "But I don't see how you can think this is relevant. Of course what happened was a terrible mistake. I saw how the humans plundered and became violent against us mutants." He sighed. "It's awful what prejudices do to us. We should all be able to overcome them by now."

Charles rolled his eyes. This was ridiculous. Erik silently told him that he couldn't agree more.

"I was there too," Erik said quietly. "And I have spent my entire adult life researching the history of mutant rights, so when I say"–here he let a metal coin float from his pocket to hover above his hand, and then let it flip and twist between his fingers–"that you are wrong, I do not say it lightly."

Shaw laughed. "You can't deny that I was there. What could I possibly have done that would make you so upset? I'm a mutant, for goodness's sake!"

"I saw you," Erik continued, almost as though Shaw hadn't spoken. "I watched you kill innocent humans and mutants alike who were only protecting things that were precious to them, simply because a small group of humans disliked us." He took a breath. "I saw you participate in the destruction, and I saw you kill my parents."

The last words came through gritted teeth. Charles almost stopped breathing. The coin was now spinning rapidly in the air above Erik's palm. "Will you deny it, _Doktor Schmidt?" _Erik demanded harshly.

Charles gently withdrew his influence from the minds of the occupants of the room. Raven had informed him that influencing anyone, let alone a large group of people, without their consent was illegal, but Charles _had _actuallyasked them all to be quiet, and they had done so of their own free will. His gentle subconscious suggestion that they remain that way had been, well, to be expected.

_Feel free to ask any questions you may have, _he told them, and that was all the invitation they needed.

"Mr. Shaw! Is this true?"

"Is it true that you changed your name?"

"How do you really know this man?"

"Can you confirm the rumor that a man named Mr. Schmidt led the Poland riots?"

"Is your name Schmidt?"

Erik was looking intently at Shaw's face, but Charles was watching Erik. _I would tell you to stay on the stage for just a few more minutes, _Charles told him, _but I think it's going to be awhile before they're done with Shaw_

_They'll never be done with Shaw, _Erik replied with satisfaction, and he finally looked away from Shaw to find Charles in the crowd. Charles smiled.

_Let's go home, _Charles thought, and Erik silently agreed with him.

Charles gently directed anyone's straying attention away from Erik and back to Shaw. No one said anything when Erik stood up and slipped backstage, or when a certain man in the crowd wearing a blue cardigan followed him and disappeared.

They walked away from the conference center. Erik had one hand in his pocket, where he was fingering the silver coin.

"Why have I never seen it before?" Charles had asked.

"Because it's private," Erik had replied, but he had told Charles anyway. His mother had given it to him the day she was killed.

_"Go buy yourself something,"_ she had told him, _"but be careful." _

Charles put his hand out, and Erik held it with his free hand. Now the coin could be a fond memory, not tainted by Shaw. "You're going to have to deal with a lot of interviews for this," Charles told him fondly.

Erik smiled. "I think I can handle it."

* * *

_Author's note: _Just one more chapter after this!


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note: _Happy Tuesday! :D

* * *

_Chapter 9: Goodnight Ducklings_

"Oy! Careful!" Charles called out. "You're losing a couple!"

Raven bumped shoulders with him comfortingly. "He knows, Charles," she told him. "They'll catch up; they're persistent."

Erik looped an arm around Charles's waist and rested a hand gently on his far hip. "You did raise them, after all," he muttered dryly in Charles's ear.

Charles blushed and frowned irritatedly. "I just don't want any of them to get lost."

The three of them along with all of their other friends were gathered in the park. Through some polite inquiries, Charles had found a mutant who had a pair of beautiful, bird-like wings. His name was Warren, and he was currently running around the grass in the center of the park, flapping his wings energetically while the ducklings chased him and tried to do the same. They weren't truly ducklings anymore, but young adults, but everyone had immediately vetoed Charles's label of "adolescent _Anas platyrhynchos_," so "ducklings" it was.

Charles had finally managed to get the ducklings to imprint on Warren enough to follow him around, though it had taken a lot of delicate fiddling with his telepathy and he still wasn't certain that that was what had even convinced the ducklings that Warren was a suitable replacement parent. He was sure that Warren's physical similarity to the ducklings had something to do with it, though Raven gave him side-long looks whenever he suggested this that definitely said, "You can talk to animals, Charles. Get over it."

Erik had managed to avoid the issue entirely by not saying a word whenever Charles started to frown at the ducklings too hard.

It was the first sunny day in a week, and only the third time that all of the ducklings had followed Warren for more than a minute. Everyone had come outside to celebrate, and all of them except for Charles were watching the proceedings with amusement.

"Hey, look!" cried Alex. Everyone looked up and saw that one of the ducklings had flapped a few inches off the ground. There was a chorus of "awww"s from the watching group.

"Aww, how cute!" Raven cooed.

Next to Erik, Charles had gone still. He stared open-mouthed at the duckling that had just succeeded in flying for the first time. Erik watched him amusedly. _Are you alright? _he asked silently.

_I just . . . _Charles covered his mouth with his hand. "They're almost grown up," he choked out.

Erik tried not to chuckle as he wrapped his arm farther around Charles's waist and hugged him from the side. "They do that," he murmured to Charles.

"Charles, are you _crying?" _demanded Raven.

"Shut up," Charles muttered, and he hid his face in Erik's shoulder.

"Look! There goes another one!" Sean shouted, and Charles looked up again, his sorrow forgotten in favor of amazement.

Warren laughed and called out to them, "I think they're getting tired." It was true; most of the ducklings had given up and were lagging behind.

"Okay," Charles called back. "Maybe we can try some more tomorrow." Warren stopped running and walked back over to them. Charles gave the ducklings a little mental nudge and they obediently followed him back to the group. They clustered around Charles, quacking at him. "Oh, you did very good," Charles murmured to them, and he crouched down to their level. Erik and Raven exchanged an amused, fond look; there really was no one else quite like Charles.

"Lunch time!" shouted Angel, and everyone stood up excitedly.

"We're going out to celebrate Darwin acing his physics test. Wanna come?" Raven asked Charles.

Charles straightened and very carefully didn't look at Erik. "Oh, that's very kind but–"

"–We've already eaten," finished Erik. Charles nodded in confirmation.

"Uh-huh," said Raven. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Charles. "We'll see you later."

"Yup," said Charles with a bright smile.

"I'm driving!" called Sean.

"No, you're not!" everyone else said, and the group moved off.

The ducklings were now perfectly fine with wandering around campus or the park nearby, so Charles let them be as he and Erik drifted in the opposite direction as anyone else. Charles put his hands in his pockets and bumped into Erik companionably as they walked. Erik's mind was all _warm contentment Charles, _and Charles gave him a little nudge of _Erik ducklings smile _in return. They somehow ended up at Charles's flat without saying a word, and Erik closed the door with only a twitch of his fingers. Then his arms were around Charles's back and Charles had his arms around Erik's neck and Erik was kissing him. Charles sighed contentedly. _Good, _he thought at Erik.

_No, _Erik thought back quite clearly. _Perfection. _

Charles broke the kiss and looked at him amusedly. Erik gave a little disappointed sigh. "What?"

"Perfection?" Charles asked.

Erik looked embarrassed. He shifted his hands to Charles's hips. "Yes?"

"I got a very strong sense of self-satisfaction from that remark," Charles told him.

"Mmm," said Erik, who was mostly paying attention to the way Charles's mouth moved when it formed words. Charles looked at him until Erik finally looked up and met his eyes. Erik raised his eyebrows innocently. "Yes?"

"You don't think it's because of you that we're together, do you?"

Erik repressed a smile. "As I recall, you didn't do a very good job of moving things along."

Charles made an indignant noise. "That is not true."

"Really." Erik slid closer and touched his nose to Charles's. Charles slid his hands into Erik's pockets in retaliation. When Charles didn't otherwise react, he pressed a light kiss to Charles's ear. Charles shivered and pretended he hadn't.

"Yes. I've had a plan all along," Charles said smugly.

"Oh?" said Erik, nuzzling Charles's neck. "And what was that?"

"Step one: charm you with my brilliant intellect." Erik snorted and ran a hand under Charles's shirt, over his lower back. Charles arched into his touch and sighed. "Step two: convince you that you were madly in love with me." Erik gnawed on Charles's ear. It was distracting, so Charles kissed him.

Erik pulled back. "And step three?"

"Hmm," said Charles, with the smirk that Erik loved best. "Fall in love in with the most wonderful man I've ever met."

Erik only froze for an instant before he regained his composure. Charles almost didn't sound like he was joking. As casually as he could, he smoothed a strand of Charles's hair behind his ear. "Most wonderful? I told you that flattering me will get you nowhere."

Charles looked up into his eyes. The smirk was gone from his mouth, replaced by a soft smile. He traced Erik's jaw lightly. "That's because I'm not."

"Hmm." Erik caught his lips in an open-mouthed kiss and Charles let out a small noise that might have been a gasp. He let his senses run out over all the metal in the room, all the metal on _Charles, _and he could feel his pulse through his watchband and the tightness of his trousers through his belt buckle, and – really, Charles?

_Okay, okay, you win, _Charles protested. _I'm sorry, it was unfair to say that –_

_No, _said Erik, and he followed it by such a feeling of _love Charles yes _that he felt Charles's knees actually go weak for a moment. **_Perfection, _**he insisted, and Charles smiled in his mind.

_Yes. _

* * *

Charles did not get his doctorate in four years. He got it in six and a half.

After the ceremony, Charles talked nonstop so quickly that no one could get a word in edgewise, so they all just grinned at him while he babbled and asked them questions he didn't give them time to answer. Raven finally succeeded in dragging Charles to a pub, and when he got his drink he finally had to stop talking for a moment. He put down his drink, turned to Erik, and said brightly, "Erik!"

Erik smirked at him. "Yes, Dr. Xavier?"

Oh. Charles liked the sound of that. He blushed, beamed at Erik, and didn't stop smiling for the next three hours.

* * *

"So what with my graduation and sudden lack of free time, I'm afraid I won't be able to continue this blog." Charles smiled a little sadly into the camera. "Thank you all so much for your support over the years (years! Can you believe it?) and for sticking with me. I'm glad if I've had even the slightest influence on current politics, and I hope that you don't mind that I might have become slightly biased towards the policies of a certain Erik Lehnsherr."

Charles cleared his throat. "And, in response to the insightful comment by charlesluvr99 (that's with a u, by the way), 'R you and Erik fuking?': yes, yes we are.

"We wish you all the best. Until next time, goodbye!"


End file.
